Destiny Dreams
by Imhotep Ardeth Bey
Summary: Riku is an internationally known popstar, always acting for the public and never following his heart: chaos unfolds, however, when Riku falls for Sora, his biggest fan and a member of his amateur opening act! AU RS Reposted
1. Prologue

**Author:** Imhotep Ardeth Bey

**Rating:** PG-13

**Note: **Due to an extremely large unhappy fan response to the prologue with descriptions of the Final Fantasy characters, I have hereby deleted and reposted my story to not only get rid of those reviews but to ensure that I don't have to deal with idiots anymore. From now on, I'd prefer if the reviews were on my story, or not at all, because there is no longer a character list for you to critisize. Apologies to those who needed it.

**Comments:** The songs are not mine. At the end of every chapter is the true artist behind the lyrics in which I have used. Some lyrics I have used may be from alternative or punk-rock songs, but try to imagine they are being sang, because Riku and the Destiny Boys are POP singers. Furthermore, **this story is an Alternate Universe **using characters from various Final Fantasy games and Kindom Hearts.

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy VII, VIII, X, and X-2 do not belong to me in the slightest. On the contrary it is split into many different sections and belongs to quite a few people unequally. Talk to them if you want to sue me, but most likely you're one of them if you're planning on it.

Keep in mind that as the story commences I will be trying my hardest to minimize the appearance of self-made characters in the story. This means two things.

1. Any self-made characters I just happen to involve will never have anything to do with the story in a larger sense. They will most likely be in roles that are too quick to be wasted on a canon character that I may be able to think of ( It's difficult to think of them all, I don't like wasting the ones I think of! )

2. Because of maximum complaining, I have removed the section of this story that described the various final fantasy characters involved. If you do not know the Final Fantasy characters, can be extremely helpful, and besides all that, my characters in this story are Alternate Universe, which means that their personalities may be slightly different, as are the situations that they are in. Pleas refrain from commenting about the characteristics of the canon final fnatasy characters beause this story **is Alternate Universe**, and I claim the right to use the characters however I wish after admitting to this.

Any other characters you may happen to detect will be, on the extremely small roles, made up by me, and, on the mediocre roles, pulled from random Animes. You don't need to understand where they come from, because **this story is Alternate Universe** (one more time). Just know thatI didn't make them up. I didn't make up any of these people. I'm unoriginal. Or perhaps I just think original characters should not be used in fanfiction. Either way, you all shouldn't mind, and if you do, don't comment, because **this story is an Alternate Universe.**

Prologue ( Finally! )

_Show business was his business; it was his life, his true meaning. Nothing seemed to matter once the microphone was in his hand and the music began to play. Everything was a simple blur of sounds and rhythm, and none of the matters and problems that had been so important before sauntering on stage seemed that way. Singing was like flying, flying away, flying so high that his problems looked like tiny ants on a large anthill. _

_When singing he would squash those ants as he danced, letting all of his problems die before his eyes and rebirth themselves in the picture of a cheering crowd. No matter how insincere and personality-less they were, he loved them. He loved every single one of them._

_Should one fan decide that the show is not worth their time, or their money, everything would be ruined. One fan always adds up. That one fan could be any screaming individual in the crowd. One could easily turn to thousands in the blink of an eye. It had happened in his favor, and he knew that life wouldn't hesitate to turn the tides against him in mere seconds. _

_His eyes traveled over the blurs of color that he knew were thousands of people, not feeling his usual euphoria at seeing such a crowd, devoted to him, only him. Their large, neon signs he was sure scrawled love confessions did not cause his heart to soar in wonderment, and the screams of the girls that would normally give him a large boost of energy did nothing. _

_When had he begun to feel as though he was being forced to do what he loved? When had being himself become a full time job?_

_The day he had become a celebrity._

_Truly, he felt as though his fame had been achieved overnight. He was still the boy he remembered himself to be, with just a self-titled CD under his belt to brag about. However, for how long? How long until this fame, this power over anyone and everything in the entertainment world changed who he was, who he wanted to be?_

_Would he notice himself changing, or would he be oblivious to it all, a snobby celebrity uncaring of the world around him? Would he be able to stop himself, or would this pressure take its toll upon him? Would his second CD be as popular as his first? Was he doomed to be a one hit wonder? _

_All of this raged through his head as he got into his assigned position on the stage, his hired dancers positioning themselves perfectly behind him and flashing him thumbs ups and encouraging grins every which way. He shook his head, unsure of what he was doing. If he was this unhappy after only his first CD, what was the reason to keep going? _

_All was answered as the call of the crowd outside reached him. _

_"Riku, Riku, Riku!" They all seemed to be one voice, screaming a name that had seemed so normal to him, yet so exotic to them. Hearing thousands of people, young and old screaming the name that his friends had called him back home was almost unreal. He was still waiting for himself to wake up._

_"Riku, Riku, Riku!" The crowd is getting louder, and the technical crew is scampering about, finding the band and fixing the tracks. Many people are so frustrated that they are crying, and he could see many a vein in multiple foreheads. _

_All because of him._

_They're signaling to him. It's almost time to begin. Counting down from ten. _

_Ten._

_Nine._

_Eight._

_He began to get nervous. He knew he had done live shows before, but in front of so many people, who were all so expectant? Never. He knew he would be fine, but would he make it to produce a second album?_

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_Slowly, with a shaking hand, he raised the microphone to his lips._


	2. Am I Sexy?

**Author:** Imhotep Ardeth Bey

**Rating:** PG-13

**Comments:** The songs are not mine. At the end of every chapter is the true artist behind the lyrics in which I have used. Some lyrics I have used may be from alternative or punk-rock songs, but try to imagine they are being sang, because Riku and the Destiny Boys are POP singers.

Also, I have written three different versions of this chapter before deciding for the right one. If there's something you feel is wrong, please don't hesitate to inform me.

Also, Riku does not come in until later. Sorry. This chapter in particular is basically an introduction.

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts, FFVII, FFVIII, FFX, and FF X-2 do not belong to me in the slightest. On the contrary it is split into many different sections and belongs to quite a few people unequally. Talk to them if you want to sue me, but most likely you're one of them if you're planning on it. The only characters I've made up in this chapter are Sasha Fukisku, Sora's father (name undisclosed), Sensi Hunt, all of Sora's neighbors' names, and Mrs.Finny, all very small characters as of now. All but one of these will never grow any bigger than what they are in this chapter.

Once the setting changes to a different country, any dialogue spoken in Japanese will be underlined and anything otherwise will be in normal font.

♪ _Hey, wanna party?_

_Ooh la la! Mmm-hmm!_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Un, deux, trois, quatre_

_Follow me and you will know!_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Un, deux, trois, quatre_

_Follow me and you will know!_

_Un, deux, trois, quatre_

_Wicked_

_We are wicked_

_Wicked_

_We are wicked_

_Follow me and you will know!_

_Wicked_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non... ♪_

Sasha Fukisku sighed, shaking her head as the last chords of the single rang through the small, yet cozy residence. The voice singing was clear and confident, and she might have even liked the song, had her own son not been repeating it since he had purchased the album.

"Sora!" The exasperated mother wailed, loud enough to be sure the teen upstairs could hear, "Don't you think it's time for a DIFFERENT song? The album has over twenty other tracks!"

♪_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me and you will know... ♪_

The woman sighed, resorting to drastic measures. Scuttling her plump, homely shaped figure to the large, full length cupboard residing in the corner of the kitchen, she opened it with a fevered franticness and grabbied the first object she could reach, a large, thick broom. Trekking herself back to the middle of the kitchen, she held the broom over her head, striking the ceiling as best as a short woman could, as violently and effectively as possible.

"SO-R-A!" She hollered, accompanying each thump of her broom with a syllable, "TURN- THAT- OFF- NOW!"

♪ _Follow me and you will know_

_Un, deux, trois, quatre _

_Follow me and you will know... ♪_

Sasha felt her eye twitching, unable to stand the song on its repeated rotation one more time. She had to admit, she loved the artist, more than she would care to admit, and the song was indeed a toe-tapper, but enough was enough.

"SORA!" She felt her voice reach a screeching pitch, "IF YOU DON'T SHUT THAT OFF RIGHT NOW, THERE WILL BE NO PINAPPLE CAKE FOR YOU FOR A WEEK!"

♪ _Follow me and you will know_

_Am I sexy?_

_Oui ou Non_

_Follow me – ♪_

The music stopped abruptly mid-line, and there was a pause – one of blissful silence, so quiet that Sasha could swear there was a ringing in the air. The silence was torn apart the second a different beat started up, shaking the windows with the base and causing Mrs. Fukisku to hold her head in annoyance. The song was good, she would admit, however, being the same voice belting out different lyrics then before.

♪ _What's the riddle of it all_

_What's the riddle on her mind?_

_It's impossible to find... ♪_

Sora's mother sighed, knowing that a different song was the best she was going to be able to bargain. Not even for dessert would Sora shut off his favorite singer's album from its never-ending course through the house. Of course, the said artist had three other equally extraordinary albums, but they had been tossed aside for the latest, just released two days before.

She tapped her foot to the new song, liking this one much better than the previous, and switched on the timer of the oven to just the right time for her roast to be perfectly cooked. Grinning at her good work, she wandered into the den, finding the television on and a rather high-class talk-show taking place on the screen. She looked closely at the figures on the television, and noted the features of the star sitting in the opposite chair as the interviewer.

"Sora!" She called, knowing the boy could hear her over his ridiculously loud stereo, "Your _idol is on _television again."

In what seemed like seconds, the music was stopped and a colorful, brunette blur flew past her into the den, his bright yellow sneakers leaving large indents on the plush, moldable rug. Sasha blinked, and once her eyes were open again, Sora's lean body was in a relaxed position on the floor, munching on a small bowl of round, juicy purple grapes and attempting to get as close to the television as humanly possible without going blind.

_"- It's just good to know that I'm being a positive influence to all the aspiring singers out in the world." _The pop star's voice could be heard for miles once Sora turned up the volume to its maximum, not wanting to miss a second of the phrases being stated. Unblinking, Sora reached for a grape, popping the small fruit into his mouth almost mechanically, his eyes never leaving the glowing figure on the television.

"_I'm just a normal kid, just like anybody else out there. I just happened to get lucky and become graced with a wonderful gift, and a fantastic chance of a lifetime."_

Sora practically drooled as the tenor voice floated over his ears, filling his mind with sensations of joy and feelings of admiration and fondness.

_"I sometimes wish I could share this wonderful completion I feel with the whole world_. "Sora recited loyally along with his idol, and his mother could almost see a clear crystal of drool on the side of her son's pouty mouth as he spoke, _"I feel that if everybody in the world were as happy as I am, then there would be no wars. There would be no arguments and no suicide. Everybody would be happy, because music is the true medicine, the medicine of the soul."_

Sasha raised an eyebrow at her sons' actions.

"Gee, have you seen this one before, Sora?" She wondered sarcastically, the biting comment softened by a teasing, warm tone in her voice. Sora said nothing and continued to watch the figure on the television, and the woman wouldn't have been surprised if the boy keeled over from sheer happiness. Sasha watched for a bit longer, though she was not interested in the interview on the television, more interested in watching her son's antics towards the television itself.

There was a soft 'ding' from the kitchen, and Sasha gaily flounced to the said room, reveling in the fact that her 15-minute roast had taken exactly twenty minutes. To her amusement, she found herself humming the song that, just twenty minutes earlier, she had been begging to be shut off. She even sang a few lines to herself, getting all the words wrong in that typical 'this-is-a-thing-that-only-mothers-can-do' type of way, dancing in her own strange fashion as she got the salad and the dressing from the fridge. Satisfied, she once again made her way to the den, though this time with a different ambition.

"So-ra!" She sang in an expertly off-tune yodel, "Time for din-ner!"

Sora remained glued to the television, his eyes shining from the almost radioactive glow of the projective screen. The talk show was still going on, and it seemed that a certain brunette wasn't about to un-attach himself without a fight.

'_If it's a fight he wants_,' Sasha concluded, '_It's a fight he's going to get_!'

With the determined air of an ignored mother, Mrs. Fukisku stomped to the television, her short index finger punching the POWER button with more force than need necessary. Once the television went black, Sora's eyes detached themselves from its surface, wide and confused, yet slightly angry all at once. His mouth was wide open, slack from the lack of brain activity it took to watch television, and a tiny line of drool connected his lower lip and the middle of his chin.

Sasha smiled warmly to her son, though mentally she was drawing him fangs and sharp claws, considering the way his eyes were trained on her.

"Now now, Sora!" She scolded, reaching over cautiously to pat her son on the head, "What would your father say if he saw you here, reduced to a dribbling, drooling mess over a simple pretty pop-star?"

That brought Sora out of his revere like a large slap in the face. He blinked stupidly at his mother for a moment, before returning to normal and wiping the trail of drool off his chin, blushing in embarrassment.

"Sorry, mom..." He mumbled, getting himself up off the floor and picking up his half-eaten bowl of grapes, "You know about my huge crush... guess I got a little out of hand..."

Sasha smiled as she watched her son chuckle nervously as he trekked from the room, the shamed blush that had been on his cheeks never ceasing in its burning red color. Of course Mrs. Fukisku knew of Sora's crush. Practically the whole neighborhood knew of Sora's crush on the famous singer, the way the albums were blasted dawn through dusk. Grinning to herself at the adorability of her kin, she reached over to the small, cheap radio, switching it on in the midst of bringing the roast to the table.

"_-Wanted to be a famous singer? Don't put your dreams on hold, send YOUR demo tape to V.A.L. Industries within the next two weeks, and you could be a star! R.O.K is looking for middle to high-teenage boys to become the next big thing! Are you up to the challenge? If you are, send your tape to –"_

There was the shattering of porcelain as the bowl of grapes Sora had been holding fell carelessly to the floor, grape juice spritzing in an unsual fashion on the tiles, and the small, sharp pieces flying in every direction . Sasha looked up from her work setting the table, startled by her son's actions, but more importantly, his reasons. Gasping, she hurried as best a portly woman could towards her son, breezily grabbing a dustpan and a miniature broom from a random cupboard that she guessed Sora had never noticed before.

"Don't move, honey, I don't want you to hurt yourself!" She warned, the excitement of the situation having died down. She settled herself on her knees, carefully sweeping up the sharp broken shards, making sure not to miss any. She could feel Sora's eyes upon her, and she stalled in her actions, glancing up at her son in curiosity. "What happened?"

Sora shook his head, bending down to help her pick up the larger pieces of porcelain that had shattered onto the floor He daintily plucked a few grapes from the ground, popping them into his mouth as he dumped the remains of his bowl into the trash.

"Sora!" Sasha interjected, her voice nearly panicked and slightly high pitched, "Don't eat those! They were on the floor! Who knows what diseases you could get – think of the germs!"

Sora chuckled and looked back at his mother, whom was still cleaning off the tiles diligently.

"Mom – are you saying that you didn't clean them properly? I assumed that your floors were sparkling enough to eat off of." He gave his mother a patented 'Sora' grin, one in which his mouth nearly took up the whole length of his face, and she gave him an exasperated smile in return.

"What am I going to do with you, Sora?" She pondered out loud, just as she began to start on the grapes. An uncertain voice broke through her clear thoughts of cleaning products and broken bowls like being poked with a toothpick – she almost missed it.

"Hey mom... what do you think?"

Mrs. Fukisku's eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes found their way to her son's face, which was distressed looking and dreamy. She stood up, grapes forgotten, and approached her son, concern flooding her every fiber. She stood in front of her son, for once not bothering to notice the height difference that had grown over the years as she stared up into his sparkling blue eyes.

"What do I think about what, honey?" She inquired, her voice soft and comforting. She felt her heart falling to pieces at the hopeless look in his eyes, and it was apparent that this was something that had been bothering him for some time.

Sora looked uncomfortably frustrated, which soon melted into a look of simple defeat. Sasha's blue eyes, though not as blue as Sora's, searched her son's face for emotions, finding the exact emotions that she would have hoped to shelter her son from.

"You know... you can talk to me, honey. "She began, using her hand to lift Sora's head from its bowed position, "I won't tell anybody your secrets. Your old, tacky mother was never one to gossip or snitch."

Sora gave a soft smile and his eyes darted in a surveying manner towards the radio.

"Do you think it's that easy... you know, to achieve your dreams? The man on the radio made it sound so easy..."

Sora once again bowed his head, as though he were embarrassed about what he was saying. Sasha shook her head, taking her son's hand in hers. There was a noticeable size difference between the two, as well as completely different builds, differences only a mother would notice or even care about. However, Sora followed her as she pulled him by the hand, sitting at her gestured command to do so. With a soft smile, she herself also sat down, making sure to catch her son's eyes with her own before she spoke.

"Honey, every person has about a million dreams of things they want to do in the future. However, there is always one dream, one ambition that shines above the rest. It's the one goal that no matter what happens, or what crumbles, you will never let go of." She waited for an interruption, and when none came, she nodded her head lightly and continued, "There will always be dreams that seem horribly unattainable. But you have to believe in yourself enough to know that no dream comes true by simply thinking about it. Doing, and thinking are two different things."

Sora nodded, his eyes turning downcast as he thought about what his mother had just said.

"But, mom... why does it have to be so difficult?" This was asked in the same soft voice as before, however it sounded possibly a little less defeated than before she had begun to talk.

"Oh, Sora, Sora, Sora...If dreams were so easy to obtain, everybody would be living theirs, now wouldn't they!" Sasha lightly scolded her son, an encouraging smile on her face. "Just remember that if you can _dream_ it, you can _do_ it, and that's a fact." (Disclaimer: Quote by Walt Disney)

Sora's face lifted up into a rather sad-looking smile, and his eyes were smiling lightly as they surveyed his mother.

"Wouldn't it be cool – to be able to do something you love for a living?" Sora pondered, his eyes moving away from Sasha's in a rather ashamed manner. Sasha smiled encouragingly, tilting her son's head back to look at her with her own hand. She stared up into her son's eyes, despite the fact he was slouching, she still had to stare up, and cocked an eyebrow, a devious smile now adorning her face.

"... Like sing, honey?" She questioned, knowing that she had completely hit the nail on the head. Sora's eyes widened and he took in a large, deep breath, sputtering unintelligently as he let the breath out. Sasha chuckled, shaking her head at her son's antics.

"Mom!" Sora finally managed out, slightly incredulous and slightly concerned, "Why didn't you tell me you knew! Were you spying on me? How did you know? ... Mom!

Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

True enough, Sasha was laughing, and quite hard at that. Her body was doubled over in the chair in which she sat, her arms holding her stomach as though it hurt immensely from laughing much too hard. There were tears prickling on the sides of her eyes, and she had no trouble letting them fall. She had never had a problem letting happy tears fall.

Meanwhile, Sora was staring at her, a challenging look in his eyes and a slight glare in his gaze. Sasha willed herself to calm down, lowering herself down to a small chuckling every once and a while. She wiped her eyes on her large, pink apron and grinned at her son, who didn't seem to quite share in her amusement.

"Oh Sora!" She cried, finding herself fighting off another laughing fit, "I don't mean to embarrass you, but you sing so _loud _and so _much _that practically all of the neighbors know you want to be a singer as well!"

Sora felt his face burning in a very large, and very intense, blush. The neighbors? He was so embarrassed, no matter what his mother said, there could be nothing more embarrassing then this!

"Oh, honey, you needn't worry!" Sasha comforted, seeing that her comment had rendered Sora in a bit of a tizzy, "The neighbors call all the time. They love your singing! They call asking if you could sing more often! It puts Mr. and Mrs. Jukanji's quintuplets to sleep, and helps Mrs. Finny get to sleep at night without Mr. Finny, god rest his soul. Mr. Frukken, you know, grumpy old Mr. Frukken that talks to nobody but his dog? Called the week you went to sleepover camp. He said his dog was restless without your singing, and was willing to _pay _you to sing again! Of course, once I told him you were at summer camp he immediately hung up and retracted the offer..."

Sora's eyes were so wide, he feared they were going to pop out of his head at this very moment. He couldn't find the strength to pick his jaw up from being on the floor, or stop his heart from fluttering dangerously in his chest. Sasha grinned, giving her son an optimistic look.

"Those people... said all those things, Mom?" He asked, his voice shaking dangerously, "You're not just lying to make me feel better?"

Sora's mother cocked an eyebrow once more and shook her head, not believing that her son could be so self-conscious about his talent. He was _her_ son! Where was the confident pride she was always pushing into him? Sasha's eyes narrowed, and she felt as though a light bulb had gone off in her head with the same 'ding' that the oven made when her roast was done cooking. She grinned, and stood up, now a slight bit taller than her sitting son.

"Close your eyes, Sora." She ordered, and Sora, seeing the maniacal glint in her eyes, obeyed rather quickly. Sasha managed to keep her mischievous giggling in check as she ran to the hutch drawer, rummaging around for a bit before finally coming up with what she wanted – a miniature tape recorder, from way back when Sora thought being a reporter would be a fantastic career idea. She checked inside, only to have her heart fall when she found no tape.

_'Think, Sasha, think. This is your little boy's dream that you're tangling with!' _Her subconscious screamed, and she looked around, making sure Sora wasn't peeking in the process. Her eyes roamed around to all the objects in the kitchen – the oven, the microwave, the blender, the answering machine, the refrigerator, the cabinet... wait just a minute, the _answering machine!_

Scuttling herself as quickly as she could to the answering machine, her old blue cross-trainers making small footsteps on the tiled floor, she glanced back at Sora to make sure he wasn't looking. Hastily, she opened the place where the answering machine tape would be, grinning delightfully when she saw the _miniature_ tape snuggled in it, a perfect fit for her _miniature_ tape recorder. She noted both were miniature, and they had to fit perfectly simply due to that fact.

Shoving the tape into the recorder rather ungracefully, she shut the tape chamber door, for lack of anything better to call it, she never was a technological person, and hurried back over to her chair. She made sure Sora wasn't peaking once more, just for kicks, and angled the tape recorder on the table, just right to catch Sora's voice perfectly.

_'He can't see it, Sasha! Then he won't sing!' _She told herself, not wanting to ruin her plans before they even began. Grinning, she snatched up the large, yellow napkin holder, placing it down gently in front of the tape recorder, so as not to make any suspicious sounds.

"Okay Sora, open your eyes." She commanded, and Sora opened his eyes, revealing crystal blue orbs to his mother. He smiled warmly to his mother, who was positively glowing, and gave her a curious look.

"What did you do, mom?" He asked, more than a little concerned about whatever his mother had done. Sasha shook her head, making small 'tsk'ing noises with her tongue while doing so. Sora gave her a strange look, which she countered with a determined air.

"Don't worry about that, honey. Now, our dinner's getting cold." She grinned deviously at her son, reminding him strongly of the Cheshire cat, all teeth and a mysterious ulterior motive. (Disclaimer: Property of Alice in Wonderland). Sora reached for his silverware, which he assumed his mother had set up before they had begun talking, but was stopped by his mother's hand upon his own.

"Sora – honey – before we eat... will you sing me a song?" She smiled, her eyes glittering dangerously in the light of the kitchen, "Just a small, little one? You can even sing one by your favorite artist, if you want."

Sora hesitated, looking down at his plate in an embarrassed frenzy. His mom wanted him to sing for her? She had already heard him sing, hadn't she? He looked up, ready to confront her about her motives to ask such a thing, and was faced with the largest, most overdone Basset-Hound eyes he had ever come into contact with, courtesy of his own mother. He felt his heart, as well as his opposition, melt, and he sighed in defeat.

"W-what do you want me to sing?" He questioned, glancing towards his mother in obvious defeat. Sasha didn't answer, simply smiling and staring in an encouraging manner his way. Sora sighed once more and took a deep breath, deciding that he would take his mother up on her challenge. He searched his mind for a good song, and debated weather he truly wanted to do this. Finally, he took another deep breath, and let his voice break through the tense silence that had developed since his mother had asked her favor.

"_And when you walk into the room I feel the world dissolve, I fall at your feet..._

------

_"...And when you look at me I swear the beating of my heart is about to cease...""_

"Sir Tidus... Sir Tidus, your cell phone is ringing, sir." Rajjin Gukni, bodyguard to Tidus Sujakni stated obviously, pointing to the small, silver mobile laying carelessly between the two seats. Tidus, the rather attractive blonde boy driving, stopped singing and narrowed his eyes, grabbing the cell phone and flipping it open in one fluid motion, his expression bored.

"Tidus." He greeted whoever was on the other end of the line, his tone just as bored as his facial features. His tone perked up, however, as well as his expression the second he heard whose voice was speaking to him from the telephone. "Oh...hello father."

His father's voice was stern and gruff, as it always was when talking to his only son.

"Tidus. Where have you been? I've been calling for nearly a half-hour trying to get a-hold of you. That is very unorganized and disrespectful; losing track of your cellular phone when somebody important such as myself may be trying to reach you."

Tidus rolled his eyes and continued driving, though he had a bit of difficulty doing it only with one hand. He cast Rajjin a rather panicked glance, and gestured with the phone that he could not do both of the activities at once. Rajjin nodded and took the cellular phone, much to Tidus' relief. He quickly graced his attention back to driving, knowing just how badly he had been swerving the road during those first few seconds of his father's phone call.

"Hello Sir Jecht. Tidus is practicing his driving at the moment, and needs to keep both hands on the wheel at all times, ya know. Myself being the of-age driver in the vehicle, Tidus took the responsibility upon himself to give the phone to me before he lost control of the car, ya know, and suffer the loss of his learners permit." There was silence in the car as Rajjin listened to whatever his father was rambling about, before he began to speak again.

"Sir Jecht, I assure you that Sir Tidus would not go out of his way to miss the luncheon that you had arranged for him with the Blitzball coach ..." Rajjin passed Tidus a threatening look, before tossing a glance at the sub-wrappers in the backseat from their hurried lunch meal, "He simply got caught up in studying at the library... Yeah, he wanted to brush up on his knowledge of elementary particles, ya know..." Rajjin shifted the skateboard in his lap uncomfortably, smirking at the response Jecht had given him. "...No sir, that is not a Blitzball tactic. That is a method of Science, ya know ...Yes sir. I'll be sure to limit his scientific discoveries until _after _Blitzball. I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again...yeah, good day to ya, too, sir."

Rajjin flipped the phone closed, sending Tidus, who was gripping the steering wheel rather hard now that the conversation was over, a hard look.

"Sir Tidus, why did you not tell me that your father had arranged a meeting between you and the Blitzball coach? If I recall correctly, you told me your day was free so you could go skateboarding!"

Tidus shifted uncomfortably, unused to being scolded by his bodyguard in any way, shape, or form. He sent his bodyguard and friend the best 'I'm sorry' look he could without crashing his car, hoping that the man understood.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rajjin... with all honesty, I was never planning on telling you. I intentionally skipped the Blitzball luncheon." He sighed and continued driving, but it was apparent he was rather distracted, and soared right through a rather obvious red light.

"Sir Tidus, you just ran a red light, ya know. Pay attention, or I'll not hesitate to take the wheel from ya. You don't want to lose your learners' permit now, do ya?" Rajjin scolded his charge, and watched Tidus relax visibly, not wanting his permit to be taken away from him, "Now, why did you skip the luncheon?"

Tidus sighed, his lower lip jutting out slightly as he thought about how to explain his current predicament to his only friend and protector.

"...I don't want to be like my father ..." He began, his eyes far away. There was the sound of a throat clearing beside him, and he began to pay attention once more. He stayed silent for a few moments, before continuing once more, his voice determined. "I don't want to be a blitzball player, Rajjin! Not in the slightest!"

This caused Rajjin to look up rather abruptly, his eyes wide and confused as they surveyed the boy driving.

"What do you mean you don't want to be a blitzball player? You've been training since you were three years old to follow in your father's footsteps, and be the best blitzball player there ever was, ya know!" He recited this mechanically, as he had been hearing it from Jecht most of Tidus' young life, and knew the speech by heart. He quickly cut off his preaching, however, when he felt the car swerve slightly into a different lane, before once again rushing back into the previous one. Rajjin blinked a few times, before deciding to ignore the action. "Well, if you don't want to be a blitzball player, ya know... then what do you want to be?"

Tidus' face turned up into a smile, and he grinned, just thinking about his dream causing happiness to flutter around within his stomach. He kept his eyes on the road, but lowered his voice, as though the words he was about to speak were dangerous and forbidden, which, in his father's circumstances, they rightly were.

"I...want to sing." He stated, taking his eyes off the road to search his bodygaurd's expression, but finding it to be blank from all emotion, as though he were thinking. He opened his mouth, ready to ask his friend what he thought about the words he had just spoken, but the words never got past the tip of his tongue. He was interrupted by a loud beeping, possibly from a car. Startled, Tidus peered out the front windshield of his car, eyes widening and a scream ripping from his throat as his car connected with another oncoming car.

He vaguely heard the sound of three numbers being dialed, and Rajjin's voice murmering something close to him, before his mind, and his world, was thrown into darkness.

------

Mrs. Fukisku sat impatiently in her uncomfortable wooden chair, a piece of paper and a pen laid neatly out on the kitchen table in front of her. Her leg bounced up and down with clear energy build up, and the cheap radio sat on the table next to her writing utensil and paper. The volume was down very low, and the moonlight shined clearly in through the open window. A soft breeze swept softly through the screened opening, attempting to take the long piece of paper along with it, but Sasha wasn't giving up that easily. Hastily, she grabbed the paper before it flew away, setting It back down onto the table with determination and fury.

She had been sitting for nearly four hours with this radio on, the exact same songs blaring over and over and the announcer sprouting many different words and jokes and advertisements. However, not one was the advertisement she was looking for.

_'Why, when you are looking for something, is it never as readily available as when you don't need it?' _She felt like screaming, but kept it to herself, lest she blow her cover and ruin the surprise. She didn't want to get Sora's hopes up, but she was so sure of his talent... she felt herself drifting off for the umpteenth time, imagining her son – her Sora -, living his dreams as a singer. She beamed with pride at the simple thought.

_'That's IT!' _Sasha thought in fury, her eyes eyeing the radio angerly, '_This station is the ultimate of waste! It must have been a different station!'_

She lifted her hand and turned the dial once more, listening to all the songs and advertisements and trying to distinguish the right station.

"_I will always love – Baby one more time – Only $15.99 – Once again, back from Tokyo - V.A.L. Industries! – Jun Akiyama_ _pregnant?-"_

Sasha stopped. Wait a tic, V.A.L. Industries! Wasn't that the company sponsoring the contest? Yes, yes it was! Oh no, which station was it!

"_It's true, there's a bun in the oven –"_ She growled and switched the channel back, crossing her fingers that the commercial wasn't over, "_999 Valentine Avenue, Hollywood, Calfornia, United States of America! Send to V.A.L. Industries Talent Search. We'll be here for YOU."_

Sasha nearly squealed in delight as she scribbled down the address. Oh, she couldn't wait to send it in!

------

Tidus' black oblivion faded almost immediately after it came upon him, or so he thought. He squirmed a bit, trying to figure out where he was, only to be overcome with a sharp pain in his shoulder and arm. He struggled to open his eyes, finding that although he was wide awake, his eyelids were heavy and felt glued together somehow. He carefully lifted his good arm up to his face, rubbing his eyes roughly to unstick them from one another. He vaguely felt another presence in the room, and he slowly opened his eyes, coming face to face with a pair of midnight black sunglasses and a knowing smirk.

"We're going to hafta' practice your attention skills, ya know." The person stated firmly, moving his face away from Tidus' and looking away, "How many times did I tell ya to keep your eyes and attention on the _road_? I wasn't lying when I said you'd crash, ya know."

Tidus closed his eyes once more, now knowing exactly what had happened. He had been distracted trying to see Rajjin's reaction to his statement, and had swerved onto the wrong side of the road. He felt like kicking himself for being so stupid, but doubted he could get up with his arm in its current condition. He spared an apologetic look towards his bodyguard, who simply stared back sternly, in a manner that clearly stated he knew something that Tidus did not.

He let his eyes wander, blue orbs taking in the white sanitation and impersonality of the hospital room he was residing. He vaguely wondered how long he had been here but didn't bother to ask, as he didn't want to seem overeager or impatient.

"Tidus, you've been in the hospital for approximately one half of a day, and one night, ya know. It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and your hair is a mess. C'mere." Tidus rolled his eyes as Raijin pulled a comb from seemingly nowhere and began tidying up his hair professionally. It was obvious that Raijin knew him better than anyone else: after all, he had been Tidus' bodyguard since he was old enough to need one, and the two spent most, if not all of their time together.

"Raijin, get off!" Tidus whined childishly as his long-time bodyguard began wiping his face off with a wet cloth. Despite his complaints, however, the older man did not cease his work with the cloth until after his mission was accomplished, and left Tidus grumbling stubbornly.

"Sir?" A soft voice from the doorway asked, and Tidus' blue eyes took in the form of a young nurse, casting the two of them nervous looks as her cheeks turned slightly pink. "There's a visitor outside. He says his name is Sunazaki."

"Send him in!" Raijin ordered officially, obviously feeling the need to switch to authoritive status in the presence of the upcoming visitor. Tidus squirmed uncomfortably.

"A visitor, Raijin? I'm not in the mood to talk to any blitzball coaches right now..." The blonde boy started pathetically, but stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the man that stood in the place of the blushing nurse.

Tall, muscular, and rugged were the first words that came to Tidus' mind to describe the strange and mysterious visitor who was now striding confidently to Raijin's side. His red trench coat seemed to billow behind him, even with his lack of movement, and his tall, expensive looking boots clicked on the floor, disturbing the shocked silence that had overwhelmed the room. The man's hair was short, and dark, as were his eyes: or, one of them, so far as Tidus could see. The other was closed slightly, as though it had received a recent hard punch, and was encircled in a blackish-blue bruise; resting on the bridge of his nose were small, pointless sunglasses.

"So: you must be Tidus." The man's voice was scratchy and sounded hoarse, however somehow Tidus came to the conclusion that it always must have been this way, due to the strength and confidence encased among every syllable that he spoke. Mutely, the injured blonde nodded.

"Thank you, Sunazaki-san, for coming on such short notice, ya know. It must have been a trip: are you thirsty? Why don't I grab you a drink?" Raijin spurted into the awkward silence, his voice puncturing it and leaving Tidus to relax slightly. Without a word, the strange visitor nodded to Raijin, and then gestured with his eyes to the door: it was obviously that the time that he spent in the hospital room would be spent alone with the person that he had come to see, and he wanted no interruptions.

"Tidus." Mr. Sunazaki repeated the name once again as Raijin hastily exited the room, wondering vaguely to himself which type of drink the man preferred, due to the fact that he had received no hints. He knew that no matter what drink he made, he would never get the chance to give it to the man, so without a second thought he marched down to the cafeteria to get himself a coffee. Without a word, Tidus simply gawked at the man.

"You're quite silent for a boy who wants to have a career in doing nothing but showing off his voice." The gruff voice pointed out, sounding slightly annoyed. His eyes widening slightly, Tidus cast the man a look of pure surprise.

"How...did you know that I wanted to be a singer?" The sixteen year old asked in a cautious tone, apparently wary of the newcomer's reaction towards his ambition. The older man, however, simply shook his head and smiled slightly. Stubble, Tidus noticed as his companion's lips twitched into a smile, seemed to grace the man's upper lip and chin areas around his lips. How was it possible that this man could make stubble look cool?

"Your bodyguard called me, and paid me a ridiculous amount of yen just to come here and listen to you sing." The man stated plainly as he sat himself comfortably down into the chair that Raijin had previously been using. "I work for V.A.L. Industries in Hollywood, California: you know where that is, don't you?"

Once again mute, Tidus simply nodded dumbly and waited for the other man to continue. This time, however, his companion didn't seem to mind.

"It's in the United States of America, Blondie. Where stars are born and raised, or sent when they want to become better then what they are. Now: I came here expecting to hear you sing."

Tidus' mouth opened, but all that was managed out was a pathetic, rather high pitched and breathy squeak. The man's face contorted into an unreadable expression, and he said nothing, his one eye simply staring blankly at the injured boy as though he held the secrets of the world.

"Well?"

The boy's mouth stayed open, emitting yet another small squeak as he attempted to justify his own actions. Mr. Sunazaki reached over, closing the injured boy's mouth manually with his index finger before rummaging nonchalantly through a small, black bag that Tidus hadn't known he had brought.

"I knew this was going to happen, "His voice was muffled as his hand roamed deep into his bag, seemingly not finding what he was looking for, "It always does, when I ask somebody to sing on the spot." There was a soft sound of accomplishment from inside the bag, and Mr. Sunazaki emerged, a small booklet clutched in his gloved hand. His brown eye pierced through Tidus' own blue ones dangerously, causing him to feel naked and exposed in the small, sanitary room. "Apparently I intimidate people."

Tidus could only nod, his eyes never leaving their wide, shocked state as the booklet the man had found was thrust into his hands. This action sent a burning pain through his shoulder, which he pointedly ignored, only allowing himself a small wince of pain as he leafed through the pages, carefully eyeing the notes and the words.

"...This is in English." Tidus observed, sneaking a look over at the man beside him curiously, unsure if he was correct or not. Mr. Sunazaki said nothing, merely nodding sharply and turning his head to the side. Tidus hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Auron's eyes turned swiftly back onto their original target.

"You can speak English, can you not?" His voice was harsh and reprimanding, as though Tidus were a three year old that had just gotten his hand stuck in the cookie jar. At Tidus' small, uncertain nod, he continued, his tone ever persistent, "Then you can sing English. I daresay your bodyguard tells me you sing along to English-written songs all the time. This is no different."

Tidus once again nodded, slowly and unsurely, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him as though it were a plague about to strike. Auron gave a clearly frustrated sigh, his eyes focused on the young man in front of him determinately.

"If you should happen to be awarded with my liking, the primary touring opportunities will be in the base of the United States of America. This means you will have to speak and sing English as your first and most-used language. This being said if you can not sing a simple pop song acapella to an audience of one, that one being myself, how do you expect to sing in a foreign language to millions of fans at one time? You must learn to adapt if you want to reach the top."

Tidus' face flushed, and he ducked his head, his blonde hair falling into his face as he tried to hide the fact he was blushing. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and not lose his cool in front of this very influential person. He would not let this guy get to him. He would not.

"Sujakni-san, if you please." A stern voice interrupted his thoughts, and his head snapped up, eyes burning and fists clenched around the papers in his hands. When he spoke, his tone was clipped and pert.

"Sujakni-san is my father." He stated, taking a rather large breath before continuing, "I _prefer _Tidus. If you don't mind, _sir_, I am not sure how to pronounce this word." He pointed to a rather difficult looking word in the book, his eyebrows furrowed in anger and his lip in a slight pout. Auron felt his lip twitch slightly upward as he leaned over and glanced in the boy's lap, his eyes pointing themselves at the word underneath the boy's strangely well-manicured finger.

"Ghost." He stated rather bluntly, and waited patiently as Tidus pointed to another word a few pages along. He glanced at it briefly and mentally sighed at the boy's lack of knowledge, "Phantom. You know -"

"_What am I supposed to do, with all these blues, haunting me, everywhere, no matter what I do..."_

The older man blinked slowly, unused to being interrupted while in the middle of a declaration, especially by a confident voice such as the one he was hearing right now. There were still a few kinks that needed to be worked out, but they were easily smoothed over by the determination and power that could easily be heard as the boy sang, in a language he was not familiar with as well. There was hardly a trace of an accent in his words, which confused him slightly. It appeared that this boy knew more than he was letting on.

"..._Seen a lot of broken hearts go sailing by, phantom ships lost at sea, and one of them is mine..."_

He winced as Tidus pronounced one of the words he had been uncertain about wrong, but said nothing and let him continue.

_"Raising my glass, I sing a toast to the midnight sky; I wonder why the stars don't seem to guide me..."_

Nodding his head slightly, the intimidating man uncapped his pen, pulling out his small, unnoticeable note sheet in which he kept in his pocket. He listened carefully, jotting down small notes such as 'strong voice' and 'needs help with pronunciation' in his scrawling, messy English print. Vaguely, the listener's attention was distracted by some sort of commotion in the hallway, but he professionally ignored it.

_"I didn't mean to fall in love with you, and baby there's a na..."_

"What the _hell_ is going on here!" A gruff, loud voice interrupted Tidus' harshly, causing the boy's voice to immediately stop its melodious trek, and his large blue eyes to become considerably larger in his panic. Mr. Sunazaki, however, stood from his chair un-phased.

"Excuse me sir; as a formal guest in this hospital I am going to have to request that you step outside of the room until after I am finished visiting with young Tidus." His long red overcoat dramatically crinkling, the American proceeded to open the door for the intruder as a way of silently ordering his leave. The new visitor, however, would not be swayed from the spot where his feet seemed cemented to the white tiled floor.

"Who do you think you are! This is _my_ son, and I'll visit him whenever and wherever I feel like! Perhaps It is you who should be leaving, because my son has just been involved in a major car accident and should _not be disturbed_."

Tidus, unable to defend himself due to his own fear and nervousness, cast a pleading glance toward Mr. Sunazaki for any form of aid in the matter. In response, the man in question simply let his eyes wander towards Tidus' arm –the only souvenir and obvious discomfort from the blonde boy's "major" car accident. With a smirk, Mr. Sunazaki reached one hand up towards his sunglasses and pushed them confidently more downward, so that he could furthermore inspect his rival, while the other hand moved tauntingly towards the pocket of his overcoat.

"I can assure you, Sujakni-san, that Tidus' health is more important to me and my company than it shall ever be in any plans of yours." In an episode of pure dramatic interlude, the hand that had been extended towards the pocket of the red coat reappeared once again, this time with a piece of paper looking remarkably close to an airline ticket. Mr. Sujakni's eyes narrowed in a glare as they followed the hand, calloused by its many years, as the airline ticket passed from said hand into the smaller, softer hand of Tidus.

"This flight, Tidus, is the flight to your future. I'll be waiting on the other side." The man, once intimidating but now seemingly understanding and proud, stated to the blonde boy simply as he took a step back from the bed and picked up his bag once again.

"Good day, Sujakni-san. Tidus," Mr. Sunazaki's dark eyes fixed themselves into Tidus' own of ocean blue, with a silent command of authority as he headed out the door. "I'll see you in Los Angeles."

Tidus blinked, large blue eyes wide in confusion, shock, and slight fear as they darted from his father to the man that had just left.

"Wait!" Tidus called, and swung his legs over the bed, uncaring he was in a hospital robe and barefoot. He sprinted to the door, pushing past his father rather rudely in the process. He was slightly off-balance due to his cast, but managed to make it to the retreating man decently without falling. Nurses called out to him as he tried to match the man's quick pace, but he paid them no mind, his eyes only on one single man wearing a red trench coat. "Who are you? ... What is this? I don't understand!"

The man looked over his shoulder at him, a small smirk adorning his features as his eyes moved up and down Tidus' body in a scrutinizing manner. His one eye seemed to hold more power and emotion than most could hold in two, and he seemed to radiate authority and leadership as he spoke.

"Use that plane ticket to reach Los Angeles. The time, date, and terminal number is listed. It will all be explained to you there." His voice, emotionless once more, softened slightly as he continued, "Your dreams are going to come true in the form of V.A.L. Industries, kid."

Tidus blinked, unsure that what the man in front of him was saying was true. His dreams were going to... come true? How cliché did _that _sound? He vaguely considered pinching himself, but decided against it, considering his present company.

"But – that still doesn't explain who _you _are." He stated plainly, hoping he wasn't being too rude. He watched the man's mouth twitch upward as his gloved hand moved to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"I'm your new manager, kid. Call me Auron."

With those last words, Tidus found himself starting at the back of a trench coat as it strode confidently out the large double doors of the hospital. He blinked, something he felt he might be doing a lot lately, and moved cautiously back to his room, not looking forward to explaining this to his father.


	3. Ride

Note: Originally this was the second half of Chapter one, but since it was so long, I decided to chop it into two separate parts, to keep you guys from getting bored of the rediculously long chapter. Here's the second half of Chapter 1, or rather, chapter 2. **This story is an Alternate Universe.**

♪ Baby get on this ride with me  
Baby come on sit next to me  
Baby get on this ride hold on tight  
Cos we've got all night  
Baby get on this ride with me  
I wanna feel you next to me  
Baby get on this ride  
Hold on tight  
Buckle up right now  
Baby come on ♪

"Mom! I'm home!" An excited voice rang through the small household, causing Mrs. Fukisku to look up, slightly startled at the loud declaration. Her eyes strayed from her tax filing to the door of the kitchen just as a spiky, hyper brunette raced through the door, backpack in hand and ready to be thrown wherever the carrier felt suitable at the moment. Her lips turned up into a warm smile as he gave her his traditional hug and kiss on the cheek, happy to have such a polite son.

"How was school?" She pondered loudly, so that the boy, who was now rummaging through the cupboard stubbornly looking for a snack, could hear her, "Did you get your History test back? Do I dare ask?"

Her son, without pausing in his cabinet-slamming, simply let out a disapproving grunt at the thought of school after the time it was supposed to be away from him. His mother gave a frustrated sigh, her eyes never leaving the spiky brunette head in front of her.

"You didn't fail again, did you? Oh, Sora, how many times do I have to tell you? History, as well as all the rest of your subjects are very important to your future as well as your academic history in general! You have to do well!"

Sora sighed, finally plucking a large box of chocolate pocky out of the cabinet, his eyes downcast and disappointed as he slid himself from the countertop. As his feet hit the floor, he glanced back up to his mother, his eyes large and watery as he clutched his pocky as though it were a cuddly teddy bear. Sasha raised an eyebrow, shaking her head at her son's utter nonsense actions. Picking up a rather large envelope in her petite hands, she motioned for Sora to come towards her, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Come here, you dunce. You received a letter today, and I'm anxious to see what's in it. Open it before I'm forced to invade your privacy and open it myself."

Sora's eyes regained their natural look before misting over in confusion. A small smile graced his face at the thought that somebody had written to him, and he bounded across the floor in the direction of his mother, mouth set in an excited grin.

"Do you think it's from dad?" He cried, his voice excited and his eyes lighting up like Christmas trees at midnight. Sasha shrugged, truly unsure, and held the letter out to him, laughing softly when he snatched it right out of her fingers, plunking himself onto a chair rather roughly and staring at the envelope as though it were his first present on his birthday. Sasha felt her heart race as she took in the envelope's front, a smile adorning both of their faces as they observed it with great care. Perhaps it was from her husband, who had been away for two years on business in the United States and had yet to return home.

"Sora, look!" Sasha gasped, her eyes widening as they glanced at the return address, "The return address is written in English typing! It has to be from America, where your father is! And look, the flag of the United States is on the stamp! Open it, quickly!"

Sora didn't need to be told twice. The second he'd heard his mother's quick fact about the address, he had begun to rip open the elvelope carelessly, uncaring weather it was able to be recognized after he was through with it. His grin stretched far across his face at the thought of hearing from his father, and he wasted no time, tearing the last of the envelope to pieces as he pulled out the documents that happened to be inside.

Sasha's eyebrows knitted together as she surveyed the papers inside the envelope, her excitement falling slightly as she glanced a large, yet slightly smaller than the original, blue, cardboard envelope and a letter. She picked up the cardboard envelope carefully, uncertainly examining the front cover and seeing nothing but a red, white, and blue eagle stretched patriotically across the front. No lettering, no label. Her hesitant smile disintegrated as she carefully opened the expensive-looking envelope, finding another piece of stiff-feeling paper inside, in the shape of a ticket.

A plane ticket.

Her eyebrows drew themselves together once more in confusion. The ticket was written entirely in English, and another language she believed to be Spanish underneath. There was a rather confused mumble from the chair next to her, and she tore her gaze away from the ticket, her eyes landing on her son, who looked equally baffled at the letter he was reading.

"What does it say, Sora?" She inquired, her voice hushed for reasons she was unsure about, "Is it from your father?"

Sora shook his head, running his fingers through his hair as though it would help him think. He continued to stare at the paper, as though searching it for clues to a mystery he couldn't quite solve, before giving up and looking in the direction of his mother.

"I don't know, mom." He stated, sounding rather defeated and helpless, "The entire letter is in English. My English is just about as good as yours."

Sasha pursed her lips, frustrated to hear this fact. She had been so _sure _is had been from her husband, so _ready _to hear from him...

"Sora, you know I don't speak any English." She stated, her voice wavering with annoyance and slight tearfulness. "It's one of your subjects in school that you attend almost every day! You must know something! Can't you figure out what the letter says?"

Sora looked rather ashamed; his cheeks turning a strange red color and his eyes turned themselves regretfully downward towards the tiles. He felt horrible for not being able to help his mother, and he was just as disappointed as she that the letter had not been from his father, possibly more so.

"Well, mom... I kind of... failed that class as well." He mumbled these words; half praying his mother didn't hear them and half hoping his mother wouldn't care. He kept his eyes on the ground, clutching the letter like a lifeline and refusing to look up at her disappointed face. She had already been disappointed enough, finding out the letter was not from his father. He heard her chair scrape the floor as she got up, her small blue shoes making their usual tapping noise on the hard floor as she left the room. Sora felt his shoulders slump forward, and he clutched the letter tightly, disappointment and anger taking their places as his main emotions inside of him. Who were these people? How dare they write to them, an obviously Japanese family, in English? How dare they get his hopes up like that! How dare they upset his mother!

BANG!

Sora looked up from his fuming, eyes wide as a gigantic monster of a book was slammed down onto the table in front of him. Briefly he looked upward, wondering if the book had fallen from the ceiling, before his eyes caught sight of his mother, standing and staring him down with a stern air. Sora's eyes wandered to the book, to which he had never seen any quite as large, before landing on his mother once more, his mouth agape and his eyes wide and curious.

"M-mom?" He questioned, not liking the look that was adorning his sweet mother's face at the moment, "W-what's this?"

Sora's mother smiled, a devious smile that proved whatever she was planning was no good for anybody, but especially Sora. She pointed her short-nailed index finger towards the book, eyes shining with mirth as she opened her mouth to speak.

"This, Sora, is an English to Japanese dictionary. You know your romanji, very well in fact. Therefore, you will look up every word in that letter until you can figure out what it is the people in that letter are trying to tell us. Now, I'm going to make dinner."

Sora's astonished eyes watched as his mother, his sweet, kind, gentle mother, stormed past him and into the cooking part of the kitchen, his eyes never leaving her as she got out all of her pans necessary and began to remove the propor ingredients from the refrigerator.

"Sora, I had better see some progress by the time dinner is finished, or no dessert for you!" Sasha's muffled voice came from within the refrigerator, and Sora immediately turned around in his chair, flipping the gigantic book open and chewing on a long piece of pockey, trying to think of where to start.

'_Well...I suppose I should read the first line, then find the first word of the line.' _Sora decided, getting up his courage and looking over the letter. It was hard to read, considering he had no understanding of the language whatsoever. The entire document all looked like a gigantic blur of letters and small markings that he didn't quite understand. He felt a headache beginning to form, but nonetheless he began.

'_Dear Mr. Fukisku...' Okay, I can jump to conclusions and figure out that they are writing 'greetings, Fukisku-sama!' Ha ha, 'Fukisku-sama'... now that would be cool...' _Sora grinned, imagining they really were calling him 'Master Fukisku', before moving onto the next line reluctantly. '_We are pleased to inform you that we have received your demo tape in the mail, and we find that you are a fantastic star in the making.'_

Sora blinked, unsure of where to start in that line. He glanced at the word 'demo', uncertain weather they were mixing Japanese and English, or weather that meant something different in this language than it did in Japanese. Why were there so many letters together that shouldn't be? How did they pronounce all these words when none of the letters sounded right next to each other? He shook his head, feeling as though he was solving a mystery of life, before getting back to the dictionary.

'_Okay, first word. 'We.' Let's see. Find the letter that looks like it...aha. Found, 'Wad'. 'Wad'? What the heck is a 'Wad'? ...Oh, I see. Hey, this thing's pretty cool! Maybe this won't be so hard after all! Okay, now to look for 'We'. 'Wave, 'Wax, 'Way, 'Week... Hey wait a second, shouldn't 'We' have been between 'Way' and 'Week'? I may not be smart, but I do know a thing or two!' _

Sora's eyes crossed slightly as he tried to figure this out. Why wasn't the word in the dictionary? Should he look again? _Now _what was he supposed to do? Should he skip it? How could he? The word appeared three times in that line alone! He groaned in false agony and frustration. Why did they have to use it so much if it didn't exist? Crazy Americans, why couldn't they use real words!

_'Forget it, Sora. Just skip it. Go onto the next one.' _Sora nodded and moved on, still slightly peeved about not being able to find the first word when it was used so much. Perhaps it was a large part of figuring out the meaning! What if, without it, he would never know what the letter said? '_Next...'Are'. Okay, it starts with A, so I go to the front, right? Okay, flipping, flipping, flipping...aha, A. 'Architecture', 'Archive',' Arctic',' Area'... Oh no. Don't tell me it's happening again! 'Are' isn't in the dictionary either! I give up!'_

Sora felt his lips pursing in annoyance, and found himself being reminded of what his mother must feel like now. Why couldn't he find any of the words? How could this dictionary be so big and not have any of the words he needed in it? Why did it seem as though every word but the ones he needed were in the stupid book! He willed himself to calm down, deciding that he would try one more word.

_'Okay, last word, then I'm going crying to mommy. 'Pleased'. Well, it's not as short as the other two words, so it must be in here! Yes, stay optimistic, Sora! We will find this word!' _Pausing momentarily, Sora wondered why his mind referred to itself as a separate party than himself, but chose not to think on it. He had more important things to worry about. He simply _had _to find at least one word! _'Okay. P. That's a lucky letter, I see it! Starting off – 'Pace'... why is there three different Japanese words for that one simple little English word? Oh, there's six Japanese words for that one little English word. How do they know which meaning they're talking about when they say that word?... Moving on. Let's see, 'Playwright', 'Plea', 'Pleasant', 'Please', 'Pleasure'. Well, 'Please' is a few letters away from 'Pleased', maybe they mean the same thing. Okay...it's like, asking for something politely. So they are asking me for something politely? Why would I give those bastards anything?'_

Sora decided then and there that it was definitely time to stop thinking. He grunted tiredly, unsure how anybody could truly learn the entire English language. How did his classmates manage to get such good grades on the tests? Did they explain why none of these words were in the dictionary? Did they teach you to pronounce them the right way? Sora resound that he would from here on in pay attention in English class. He truly was stupid when it came to languages.

What was he to do now? He wondered, unsure. Should he tell his mother that he failed, therefore disappointing her once more? He didn't think he would be able to see that crestfallen look upon her face one more time. He glanced at the small clock hanging from the wall, his tired eyes taking in the minute and second hands. It was nearly four-thirty. What was he going to do? He wanted to show his mother he wasn't a screw up, but how when he couldn't find any of the words in the dictionary? How could he translate an entire English document without a clue of how the English language works? Who would be willing to help him, who actually carried such a knowledge?

Light bulb.

Glancing once again at the clock, Sora jumped up from his chair, his eyes bright and excited once more as his idea flipped over and over in his mind. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? It seemed so obvious now!

"Mom!" He called, knowing his mother heard him loud and clear. It was, after all, a rather small house. "I'm going out. I'll be back, I don't know when. Wait dinner for me!"

Without waiting for a reply, he was out the door, not bothering to grab his coat, letter and ticket clutched in his gloved hand. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, knowing exactly where he was going and just hoping that he made it on time. He felt his lungs burning as he didn't bother waiting for the 'Walk' signal at the crossing, barely missing getting hit by two very large eighteen-wheeler trucks in the process. His legs felt as though they would collapse any minute – he did live slightly far from his destination, but he insisted on running – until he saw it.

Kyoto High School.

Grinning, Sora surveyed his school in all its glory, the gigantic building seeming to loom over him as though it was grinning back. His eyes swept over the large staircase leading to the entrance hall, his head tilting sideways slightly as he spied a lone, blonde figure stepping rather quickly down the steps. His heart started to beat rather quickly, and he started to run again, this time in a larger hurry than before. If that man left his plan would be ruined!

"Sensai!" He called, his voice softer than he would have liked. He decided to take up the volume a bit, "Hunt-Sensai! Hunt-Sensai, wait!"

The man, who was rather tall and lanky and carrying a large black briefcase, stopped in his tracks on his way to the parking lot. Cautiously he looked over his shoulder, as though expecting a bomb to be in place of a person simply yelling his name. Seeing it was only Sora, he stopped and turned, his eyebrow raised in curiosity and amusement as he waited for the boy to catch up. Once Sora was in front of him, however, he was quick to speak.

"Well, if it isn't Sora Fukisku... why, I had no idea that you even knew my name, the way you pay attention in my class." He said all this slowly, as he always spoke, with a horribly strong accent that nobody truly could figure out where it was from. "What can I do for you? I'm afraid to tell you that there's nothing you can do to salvage your already failing grade, so if you've come to ask for extra help you are far beyond it."

Sora blushed slightly at his teacher's words, but refused to be beaten.

"Hunt-Sensai , I need your help. You can read English, can't you?"

Mr. Hunt raised an eyebrow once again, finding that it was the only sensible thing to do in the presence of such a boy. He felt his mouth twitching upwards, and he let a small chuckle escape his throat as he spoke.

"Well, Sora-kun, I am an English teacher..."

Sora felt a pout coming on, and he succumbed to it rather easily, letting it take over his face as he glared the teacher down. He did not come here to be made fun of, he came for some decent help. He shook off the urge to snap a comeback and rolled his eyes, holding up the letter.

"_Sir, _I need your help. I received this letter in the mail today, along with this strange American plane ticket. They are both written entirely in English, and I can't read them. My mother told me that I had to figure it out as a punishment for failing English class. I'm also quite curious as to what it says. Will you help me, sir?" He put on his best basset-hound eyes and looked up at his teacher, his pout still in locked in place. The best way to a teacher's heart was definitely brownnosing. "Please?"

Mr. Hunt, no matter how much of a strict man he tried to be, could not help but fall for Sora's pathetic, helpless look. He shook his head, feeling deafeated, and took a step closer to the boy, his eyes giving Sora a one-up.

"Allright – what have you gotten so far?" He asked, trying to peer at the letter that was looking rather squished in Sora's right hand. Sora sighed in relief and handed him the letter, biting his lip as he did so.

"I tried looking up the words in the English to Japanese dictionary, but the only one I could find was the word 'please'. I think they're trying to ask me to do something, politely of course." Sora declared proudly, happy to have known even that small tidbit of information. Mr. Hunt gave him a small look of approval before glancing at the letter, his eyed beginning to skim it. He felt a small drop of water touch upon his eyelid, and he blinked, looking up at the gray sky with a slightly annoyed look. Apparently, his look was enough to burst something up there, because as soon as he tilted his head upward the skies opened up , pouring bucketfuls of water upon both himself and Sora. He heard his student's startled cry and felt the letter being wrenched out of his hand by its owner, hastily being covered and stuffed into his pocket.

Giving a small annoyed groan, Mr. Hunt grabbed Sora's small arm and dragged him at a run towards the teacher parking lot, glad that Sora had taken the hint and followed him so he hadn't had to literally drag the boy. He led his student over to a small black convertible, top down, leather interior getting rather soaked. Mr. Hunt reached in and pressed the 'top up' button, watching as the top made itself slowly to cover the car. He signaled for Sora to go around the other side and get in, which Sora did, rather quickly in fact, not waiting for the teacher to get in before him. Mr. Hunt rolled his eyes and got in, face and hair dripping and the seat making a strange 'squeejee' noise underneath his body as he moved. He turned towards Sora, a small smile flitting his face, in turn trying to catch his breath back.

"So, is this customary for you Americans? Bring your young, unsuspecting students into your car for a _good time_?" Sora questioned bitterly, upset about getting wet and nearly having his letter get washed away. He glanced at his teacher underneath his now sopping wet, flattened hair, eyes annoyed and mouth set in a rather large pout. Mr. Hunt stopped struggling with his briefcase, which he had been trying to force into the small, nearly nonexistent backseat, and raised an eyebrow, a trait in which Sora was beginning to match with the man.

"Oh, come now Fukisku-san. Stop giving me that look – you look like an irate kitten." Sora let out an angry, aggravated noise of argument, but Mr. Hunt didn't wait for him to finish, "And furthermore, if you paid attention in my class you would know a thing or two about the countries in which speak English. I'm not from America. In fact, I've never been to America. I'm from Britain."

Sora, still slightly peeved at the 'kitten' comment, continued pouting and didn't move, nor apologize.

"Yah, so?" He countered, his tone irritated, "What's the difference? They all sound the same to me."

Mr. Hunt looked slightly insulted, furrowing his eyebrows and giving Sora a thoughtful look.

"Yes, well, they would, wouldn't they? After all, you don't pay attention in my class; therefore you didn't learn how to distinguish between them. You also wouldn't know that many British people like myself get rather miffed when compared to those from the United States. We are a large ocean apart from each other with entirely different types of English dialect. We have different opinions and slightly different lifestyles. We believe in much different beliefs and have slightly different laws. No, my dear student, they are definitely not the same."

Sora made no move that he had even heard the speech, and continued staring ahead, his eyes focused on something far away in the distance. After a few seconds, his hand slipped into his pocket, emerging clutching an authorized-looking paper that was clearly the letter in question. He carelessly shoved it at his mentor, raising his eyebrow in a slightly mocking fashion and motioning for him to read it.

Mr. Hunt raised an eyebrow of his own and took the letter, letting his eyes roam over it quickly, stopping at the bottom and bringing his eyes over it once more, his pace much slower than the first. Sora's eyes never left his teacher's face, glued to his current facial expression, which was flickering between smirking, smiling, and looking rather astonished. The curiosity was killing him, but since he was asking this man for a favor, he couldn't be too rude...

Oh, hell. He'd never been polite before, why start now?

"What's it say, Hunt-Sensai?" He blurted, leaning forward in his seat, so he was uncomfortably close to his teacher, "What does it say? Is it from my father? What do they want? Why are they writing in English!"

Mr. Hunt grinned and looked up from the letter, grin faltering slightly when he was aware of just how close his student was to him. He shifted rather uncomfortably, waving Sora away and twitching slightly as he only moved closer, trying to read over the older man's shoulder. He used the back of the seat as a balance and tried to get a glimpse, despite the fact he himself couldn't actually read it. He felt himself becoming wobbly, and, to make sure he didn't fall over his teacher and look like a fool, quickly put his hand down to keep himself sturdy.

"Sensai, what's taking so long? Can't you hurry up? I thought you could read Eng-"He was interrupted by a loud, high pitched yelp, coming from somewhere in the car. Sora looked around, confused as to where such a noise had come from. Did Mr. Hunt have a dog, or an animal of some sort that could make a noise like that? Was the radio on and he wasn't aware? What could possibly –

"Sora..." His thoughts were invaded by the uncharacteristically soft, rather uptight voice of his teacher. Sora looked to his side, to where his mentor's face met his gaze, a slightly strange look in his eyes and his mouth in a tight line. Once their eyes met, his teacher's eyes darted downward, before moving up again, giving his student a meaningful look that he hoped he would understand. Sora, taking the hint, looked down as well, taking in the position of just _where _he had put his hand down to steady himself. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment, and quickly retracted his hand, averting his eyes.

"Heh, heh...S-Sorry sir..." He managed to force out, moving his body backwards against the passengers' side window in an embarrassed flurry. There was silence in the car, to which Mr. Hunt uncomfortably cleared his throat, shifting his position slightly before looking back towards the letter. The silence and tension was thick, and Sora began to feel more awkward than he believed to have ever felt before. Finally, after a few more agonizing moments, he spoke again.

"So... is it from my father?"

Mr. Hunt didn't respond, handing the letter back to Sora and starting up the car, the keys somehow managing to appear in the ignition without Sora noticing them. With the speed of somebody who had been driving for many years, he put the car in reverse and backed out of his parking space, glancing towards Sora while doing so.

"First, where do you live?" He asked, heading towards the exit of the parking lot, "There's no way I'm letting you walk home in this madness."

Sora felt strangely touched at this gesture, and told him his address. Mr. Hunt nodded in recognition and turned from the parking lot, heading the direction of Sora's house as though it were an ordinary part of his everyday schedule. Sora stayed glued to the passenger's side window, still trying to recover from the embarrassing experience he had just encountered, but was shaken from his mortification by the voice of Mr. Hunt.

"So – what's your father doing in America, anyhow? Why are you so anxious for word from him?"

Sora blinked, taken off-guard by his teacher's forward attitude. He himself thought that Mr. Hunt was being rather bold in his questioning, but he did not express this opinion as he pondered how to answer the question.

"Well..." He started, unsure of just how much he was willing to share with one of his teachers, "My father is in America on business."

Mr. Hunt nodded, and Sora relaxed, thinking that the interrogation was going to stop there. However, he was sorely mistaken.

"What type of business does he do?" Came the uninterested voice of his mentor, and Sora was silent for quite a while, not answering the question. Mr. Hunt glanced at his student briefly, before repeating his question, more forcefully this time. "Sora? What does your father do?"

Sora frowned and avoided his teacher's look, instead looking towards the car floor below him as though it were quite fascinating. He established that Mr. Hunt would most likely keep asking, so begrudgingly, he answered.

"I...don't know what he does, sir. Sorry." He stated in a soft declaration, uncharacteristic and a drastic change from his usual spunky attitude and voice. The Englishman frowned, his eyes darting from the road to Sora, who looked rightfully depressed after that statement. He shook his head regretfully, cursing his foolish curiosities.

"I'm sorry, Sora. I didn't mean to pry. I was just letting my curiosity get the best of me... Out of all of my students, you are the only one who has not come to know me as less of a teacher, and more as a friend. I try to understand my students so I can sympathize, but I suppose sometimes I go a bit too far. I apologize." He truly meant his apology, as well. He felt horrible for bringing up something that so obviously bothered his student, and wanted nothing more than to make it up to him somehow.

"Oh, don't worry Sensai, it's allright. I suppose it is sort of weird, isn't it? My father has been gone for two years and I don't even know what he's doing while away. Pathetic on my part, no doubt." He gave a small smile to show he wasn't bothered, but Mr. Hunt, being a High School teacher, could see right though it.

"Does he write often?" He questioned, trying to take Sora's mind off of the fact that he was kept out of the secret that was his father's employment. Sora shook his head, his still-drying hair sending a few water droplets on the wet leather of the car seat.

"About three letters a year, I suppose. However, it's nearly April, and we still haven't received anything from him. Our feelings are a bit too impatient, mine and my mother's, I guess, but he tells the greatest stories in his letters, about all the people and the places he sees in America. You've never been either, but it sure sounds cool! He says he saw a Golden bridge, and that where he is they have a fabulous party called Marday Grease where people dance in the streets and play loud music all day!" Sora grinned at his explaination, happy to know something about his father's work. Mr. Hunt grinned as well at Sora's enthusiasm, happy to have gotten his mind onto a topic a bit more cheerful.

"I believe the name is pronounced 'Mardi Gras'. Your father must be in New Orleans, in Louisiana." He watched as Sora's face showed no regards or recognition to that name, and he once again sighed at the boy's lack of attention in his class. "Have you ever seen any movies where there have been Cowboys in them? Louisiana, that's where the Cowboys are, so I hear." He cast a grin at Sora, whom he was pleased to notice was also grinning rather widely. At his mention of Cowboys, Sora chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with wonder.

"You think my dad might be a Cowboy? Chasing bad guys and robbers on his horse and wearing a ten gallon hat?" He laughed, trying to imagine his dignified father acting like one of the American cowboys he had seen in the movies, finding the picture rather hilarious and mood lifting. He found it odd that he was enjoying the presence of a teacher, and even odder that the teacher himself was rather... normal. As they engaged in conversations of movies and scenarios for the rest of the ride, Sora found that once they pulled up to his house, he was rather reluctant to leave. He turned to his teacher, ready to say his goodbyes, when Mr. Hunt held up his letter, as though reminding him of his main deed.

"I think it's time you finally found out what this meant." He stated, eyes glinting mischievously in the dim lighting that the grey skies provided, "And before I tell you, I would like to say, congratulations, and I hope that you have a safe trip. I always knew you had something great inside of you, Sora, just waiting to be let out and exploited. I am truly proud of you."

Sora, kept carefully in the darkness, had absolutely no clue what his teacher was talking about, and looked at him rather strangely, now remembering why he never conversed with teachers outside of class. They were so bloody confusing. Cautiously, he approached the situation.

"...Sir...?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow in a mirror action of his older companion. The teacher smirked happily at his student, shoving the letter into his hands and pointing to the first line.

"We're going to go over it line by line, so you can see how each line is supposed to be pronounced, okay? Too bad, you're going to do it anyway if you want to figure out what it means. Okay, first line. This says – "

" – I've gotten accepted into a band! Mom! Mom, where are you, look at this, I've found what the letter means! I've been accepted into a band! Mom! Mom!"

Sora's excited cries rang through the practically empty house as he bounced through the door, his eyes and smile brighter than incandescent light bulbs in the middle of the night. His bright yellow shoes led him quickly to the kitchen, where he glanced around, not seeing his mother anywhere. Still grinning, he dashed up the steps, sprinting through the entire upstairs, discovering he still couldn't find his mother. Running down the stairs to the kitchen once more, he looked about, his large blue eyes spying a small pink slip of paper tacked magnetically to the refrigerator. Blinking, he slowly made his way over to it, spying his mother's loopy handwriting adorning the paper.

'_Sora –_

_I have brought dinner at Mrs. Finny's. When you get home, go there. She's just made fresh cookies and wants you to try them! _

_Love, _

_Your mother_

_P.S. I'm sorry for being so pert and irritated earlier, forgive me?'_

Sora blinked once again, but obliged with the note's command, still excited about his letter's true contents. He grabbed his coat, hastily pulling it on and walking hastily out into the still-pouring rain, not bothering to look both ways before crossing the street to Mrs. Finny's small ranch house, shaking himself off once underneath the small overhang that protected her front stoop from getting wet. He didn't bother ringing the doorbell, instead choosing to go right in, taking his shoes off as he did so. Though the age-old tradition was ignored in his mother's and his own household, Mrs. Finny was a fairly old and traditional woman who would find it very insulting if he were walking on her rugs with his sneakers. Once they were off, he walked calmly onward in his socks, wanting to yell for his mother but knowing that he had to be proper in the presence of an elder such as his neighbor.

He took another step forward, greeted with the soft laughter of his mother wafting through the doorway to the rather large kitchen and dining room. He made his way towards the sound, rewarded with the delicious smell of chocolate cookies and his mother's rice.

"Mother?" He questioned in what he liked to call his 'indoor voice', calling his mother in a polite manner, as Mrs. Finny approved of none other. He peeked into the room tentatively, as though requesting entrance, and smiled as his eyes caught the two. The scene before him was a warm site, his mother and Mrs. Finny conversing over a plate of cookies and hot tea, his own dinner they had saved warming on the stove for him and the two women laughing heartily at what must have been an inside joke. He didn't want to interrupt, but his excitement was getting the best of him, and he felt as though he were going to explode from the news. "Mother, I've figured out what the letter says! You'll never believe it!"

Sasha slowed her laugher and took a small sip of her tea, her eyes landing on her son standing politely at the door, waiting to be invited into the room. She motioned for him to come in and sit, standing herself to fetch Sora his plate of food that had been warming in wait for some time. She gave her son a soft smile, darting her eyes towards Mrs. Finny and inclining her head to remind Sora to mind his manners. Sora, understanding, turned his attention to his neighbor, giving a small bow as a sugary sweet smile adorned his face and his eyes became large and innocent.

"Good evening ,..Finny-dono . How are you doing?" He asked, receiving a kind, warm smile in return for his thoughtfulness.

Mrs. Finny was a traditional woman in every sense necessary to be one of the most educated and respected elders of the city. She was tall, but not overly, just enough to look down upon naughty children and look sternly up at equally naughty adults. She wore traditional kimonos every day, no matter what the occasion, proving she had either come from a very wealthy family, or that Mr. Finny had been a very prosperous man. Her hair was long and dual colored, a strange but beautiful mix of black and grey, and always up in a conventional bun, holder sticks in place to make sure it never faltered. It appeared she knew all, and nobody in the city said differently, as on many occasions, she had proved that she just might. Either way, she intimidated Sora, a less-than-traditional boy who often forgot to say 'excuse me' after he burped.

"Good times are upon us, young Sora, very good times. However such good times may not be upon my weary bones. The years are taking its toll, my boy. Enjoy your youth while you still can."

Sora nodded respectfully, taking her words with heed, and bowed once more. Mrs. Finny nodded and gestured towards the third chair at the table, to which Sora sat gratefully, eager to tell his news.

"Mother, you'll never guess what the letter was about!" He started, watching as Sasha put the plate of food in front of him, which he pointedly ignored in favor of telling his story, "It wasn't from da- father, it was from some corporation called V.A.L. Industries. They say they received a tape of my singing that somebody sent in, and they liked it enough that they want me in their singing group!"

Sora said all this very fast, but his mother clearly understood, her eyes widening in surprise and her body suddenly sitting down in her chair rather heavily. He blinked, wondering what was the matter, before continuing his story, too excited to stop just yet.

"You won't believe it – the letter was a letter of acceptance telling me that I'd gotten in, they chose five boys internationally and I've gotten chosen! The plane ticket is a plane ticket to Los Angeles, in America! I leave in a week! Isn't that amazing? I'm going to be a singer!"

There was silence from the table, which Sora pointedly ignored as he picked up his chopsticks, because Mrs. Finny didn't believe in forks, and took a small bite of fish, chewing thoroughly before speaking again. He paid no mind to the fact that his mother's eyes looked ready to fall out of her head in disbelief, and Mrs. Finny's forehead was rather scrunched due to the furrowing of her eyebrows.

"I mean – this is unbelievable – how could they pick me! I don't remember sending in a tape – Do you think that they might have confused me with somebody else, mother?"

He looked towards his mother, whom had stopped her imitation of a corpse and was now shaking her head, though weather it was to Sora's question or the situation in general, he wasn't quite sure.

"Um...mom –mother-, are you all right? Do you need some more tea?" Sora questioned, slightly worried that his mother was choking or something equally life threatening. She continued to shake her head, heightening his curiosity towards the situation, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Sora's mother said nothing, instead looking as though she were deep in thought about something only she could ponder. Mrs. Finny leaned forward slightly, touching her soft, smooth hand to his mother's arm in a comforting manner, large, concerned brown eyes boring into Sasha's.

"Your son asked you a question, Sasha. Perhaps it would be best if you answered him." Her soft, wise voice rang through the silence gracefully, and forcing Sora's mother out of her reverie. She shook her head once again and looked to her son, who was bearing a face that was a cross between worried and confused.

"Oh Sora," She started, trying to put the words together properly, and failing miserably, "I was the one who sent in the tape... I never thought...I never dreamed that you would actually get accepted... Not that I don't have faith in your abilities, but the world is a rather large place, and... well... I can't believe it..."

Sora grinned and got up from his chair, dinner forgotten. His mother stood also, and he wrapped her in a large, forgiving hug, not feeling angry at all at the fact that his mother had sent in the tape, and instead feeling elated beyond belief. He was truly going to be a real singer! Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, wooshing and swooshing through his brain and out his ears, but finally, one reigned high above the rest.

_'I've got to pack!'_

_------  
_

A dark figure, clearly male, was sitting mysteriously on a large, comfortable looking office chair. His face was shrouded in shadows, and his tuxedo blended perfectly with the same essence, the only feature being notably bright in his ensemble being a small, blood red pin tacked neatly onto the suite jacket's left side. The pin itself was the size of a silver nickel, in the shape of a perfectly balanced, well done and rather squishy-looking heart. His eyes, which were unseen, were lost in darkness as his head bowed and his hands steepled on the base of his large desk. The man in front of him, a rather fidgety man by the name of Mr. Sakano, appeared nervous as he looked on to his boss' contemplation.

"Sakano." The deep voice of the powerful man boomed through the room, seemingly amplified by hundreds simply with the knowledge of whom the voice belonged to. The summoned, Mr. Sakano, looked nothing short of a panic attack as he stepped forward, fidgeting with his fingers behind his back as he did so.

"Y-yes, Mr. Valentine, sir?" The unstable producer asked, his voice shaking and his hands doing much the same. His brown eyes stayed glued to the face of the man before him, though he could not lock eyes due to the looming shadows covering the superior man's features. There was silence for a few moments, before the rather intimidating voice spoke once more.

"Is my international talent search over and done with?"

Mr. Sakano breathed a small sigh of relief, his fingers running themselves through his already disheveled black hair before answering, clearly less tense.

"Why, yes, sir, it is. We have three from different parts of the United States and two from the small island of Japan. They'll be flying here in about a week to make sure that their voices will harmonize well with each other, and to meet the rest of their band mates. If all goes well, we shall start recording in two weeks time at the latest.

Mr. Valentine kept his position, and Mr.Sakano couldn't help but wonder if he could quite possibly be talking to a statue, or robot of some sort that wasn't trained to do anything but speak. He rather preferred to see the people he spoke to, but to make a demand to Mr. Valentine would be to throw a noose around his own neck. Not wise, and pretty damn stupid. He gave a small twitch as Mr. Valentine began to speak again, never liking the power the man's voice had over him.

"Two boys from Japan? ... For such a small place they sure do have a lot of talent. We'll have to keep an eye on them." Mr. Valentine un-steepled his hands, throwing away Mr. Sakano's ideas of the boss being replaced by a statue, but leaving him with the slightly immobile robot idea. "Now, these...foreigners..." The boss continued, picking up a rather expensive looking pen and twirling it in his slender fingers quite gracefully, "Do they speak fluent English?"

Mr. Sakano's eyes widened slightly, darting left and right quickly before answering.

"Um...sir, Mr. Valentine... is such a skill required?"

Mr. Valentine's fingers stopped spinning the pen, and for a moment, nothing could be heard but the sound of their breathing. Mr. Sakano looked slightly nervous, but said nothing, instead averting his eyes from the figure in front of him to the side wall, almost as though he were examining the art hanging there.

"... Of course it is, Sakano, why wouldn't it be? We are in the United States, after all. "Mr. Valentine's voice had taken a rather threatening edge, as though he knew Mr. Sakano had screwed something up and was only waiting for _him _to become aware of it. Indeed, Mr. Sakano had become aware, though his loudly beating heart and furiously racing mind did nothing to sooth his anxiety.

_'One of them hasn't been checked – the second from Japan, Sara...no, Sero...no, that's not it... Sora! Sora Fukisku hasn't been checked, what if he's language-incompitant? How will I live with myself? What will the boss do with me? How will I live this down? I knew I should have told Mr. Sunazaki to check the Fukisku kid while he was there... why me, why me, why me!'_

"_Mr. Sakano._" Mr. Valentine's voice penetrated his mental beating, sounding stern and reprimanding, and at the same time, holding a hint of amusement. "Is there something you would like to share with me?"

Mr. Sakano gulped visibly, sweat starting to form on his brow as he throught of just the right words to use in a situation such as this. Finally, he gave up and decided to wing it, knowing he was going to make an idiot out of himself no matter how he spoke.

"Well... sir... we might have a slight problem... "He started, and was unable to finish, due to the insane, rather loud laughter coming from the desk in front of him. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward slightly, uncertain of whether his boss wasn't laughing at all and in reality choking on a candy or something similar. Instead, he saw his superior's shoulders shaking, clearly due to laughter, as the man once again leaned forward and steepled his hands once more, the smile adorning his face still clearly obvious to his producer. Mr. Sakano opened his mouth to ask of the man's health, whether it be mental or physical, when Mr. Valentine spoke, his voice laced with the laughter he had just sprouted.

"Oh this will be interesting... yes... "He leaned backwards once more, comfortably settling himself in his chair and waving Mr. Sakano away with a simple flick of his wrist, "Very interesting indeed."

------

Spinning about his room in a flurry of excitement, Sora just couldn't believe his luck. He had been chosen to be in a singing group! Him! Sora Fukisku, ordinary teen from Kyoto, the kid who just yesterday thought the most exciting moment in his life was the upcoming school dance. He fought back a squeal of delight as he didn't bother to pack, instead falling to his messy floor, watching his bedroom spin above him in a blur of colorful pictures and posters.

All of these posters were of one person, and one person only – the one person who would forever be his idol, and longtime gigantic crush.

Riku Citrell. A 5'11 god-sent with the body of a demi-god and hair of silver. He was never sure of weather the pop star's hair was naturally that beautiful, fantastically amazing color, or weather he had dyed it that way once he had started singing. Sora didn't care either way. His Riku was beautiful. His Riku was perfect.

Standing up, he glanced at his Stereo, eyes automatically locking on the four 'Riku' CDs which took up the limited space on the flat top of the player. Each one featured a picture of Riku, and each one was perfect in its own way. Riku never stayed with just one type of music, and more often than not branched off into different varieties. However, it still all came down to his beautiful voice.

His wonderful voice.

His magnificent voice.

He knew that in his wildest dreams he could never make it to the degree of stardom to which his idol possessed. No matter. He believed that if he could, just once, reach the same talent level as Riku, his career, as well as his life in general, would be complete.

As he switched his CD changer to one of the earlier 'Riku' tracks, admiring the posters that were lain so thickly the wall was not visible, only one thought crossed his mind, almost as though on 'repeat'.

_'I will be like Riku.'_

_---_

Music used in this chapter is not mine. It is the property of their owners and writers. The first song was put in for humor purposes only. It is NIN – Am I Sexy. I have never listened to NIN and never will.

The rest of the music used, and all the music used in this fanfic, are my personal favorites. You know, the ones I listen to on repeat for hours and hours and never get sick of them?

The song at the beginning of this chapter is "Ride" by Darren Hayes.

The song that Sora changes to after his mother gets sick of the song is "Riddle" by Nsync.

The song that Sora sings when his mother records him, and Tidus also sings while driving is "Falling at Your Feet" by Darren Hayes

The song Tidus sings while Auron is listening is "Ghost of You and Me" by BBMAK, though the lines that I used don't go in that order. I wanted to signify that he was still singing while Auron contemplated – therefore breaking up the song slightly and taking phrases from farther down in the song.


	4. Cadillac Dress

**Author:** Imhotep Ardeth Bey

**Rating:** PG-13

**Comments:** The songs are not mine. At the end of every chapter is the true artist behind the lyrics in which I have used. Some lyrics I have used may be from alternative or punk-rock songs, but try to imagine they are being sang, because Riku and the Destiny Boys are POP singers. This chapter is a little short, too: the next one will be longer! **This story is Alternate Universe** meaning that any canon Final Fantasy characters who may act slightly out of their character are excuseable due to the situation.

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts, FFVII, FFVIII, FFX, and FF X-2 don't belong to me...if they did, why would I be writing fanfics? I could make my own games :D

Once the setting changes to a different country, any dialogue spoken in Japanese will be underlined, and anything in English will be regular font.

♪_Take my clothes, my socks, my shoes away  
I wanna be naked everyday  
I'd wear nothing but my birthday suit  
Just a chance to be with you  
I'd make loving you a living  
I'd be a chair that you could sit in...♪_

Ignoring the tap on his shoulder that he was feeling, Tidus Sujakni kept his eyes closed as he quietly sang along to the latest Riku song on his MP3 player.

"Mr. Sujakni...? Mr. Sujakni?" A female voice chirped annoyingly close to the blonde boy's face, causing his eyes to shoot open and her to take a few alarmed steps backward. The headphones were slipped off his ears as Tidus stared at the woman expectantly.

"Y-your milkshake, Mr. Sujakni." The woman stuttered unprofessionally, and Tidus couldn't help but find her nervousness almost flattering as he took his specially ordered chocolate milkshake.

"Thank you." He offered to her with a small smile, but stopped when he eye caught sight of his...how could he put this rationally...scandelously _naked_ whipped cream."...but where's my strawberry? I _asked_ for a strawberry."

The stewardess' nervous features suddenly became alarmed, and she bit her lip in worry.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, Mr. Sujakni! I'll get you _three_ right away!" The promise was practically called over the woman's shoulder as she hurried away to do his bidding. Outwardly, Tidus smirked; having a famous blitzer for a father (asshole or not) _did_ have its favorable advantages.Headphones replaced, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat, obviously not hearing the cry of protest from the person behind him. After all, whoever it was, they could move: he was Tidus Sujakni.

"Ouch!" Sora cursed to himself pointlessly as the chair in front of him succeeded in temporarily crushing his legs. Thankfully, the passenger in front of him shifted at that moment; his legs were free, and repositioned to better fit the obviously demanding boy in front of him. Vaguely, he witnessed a stewardess practically sprinting to the side of his tormentor, four delicious-looking strawberries, strategically organized on a plate, and decorated with a mint leaf. Correction: change that to _extremely_ demanding.

In order to distract himself from his now limited moving space, Sora absent-mindedly pulled out his carry-on items: his letter from Val Industries, ticket stub, a seperate letter from his mother, and picture of his mother and father. Vaguely, Sora's eyes grazed over the almost forbidden image of his father: from the familiar brown hair, down to the blue suit that he had been wearing when the picture was taken. He looked so poised, so happy, so genuine...Sora couldn't wait to meet him. Next, his eyes easily glided over to the familiar form of his mother, the grin from her picture contagious as Sora couldn't help but smile along with her, even as the lump formed in his throat.

_Come on, Sora...you've been apart for what, ten hours?_ He mentally berated himself, but the nostalgia still came, nevertheless. He fondly remembered their final goodbye at the airport.

_"Sora...are you sure that you packed everything? Toothbrush, socks, underwear, pictures...you did remember pictures of me, right?" With a trembling lip, Sasha Fukisku followed her son anxiously to his airplane terminal. "You didn't pack pictures, did you? Oh, my baby wants to FORGET ABOUT ME!"_

_Despite his reddening face, Sora smiled reassuringly at his now wailing mother. _

_"Mom, I packed so many pictures of you that everyone's going to think you're my girlfriend. Calm down...it's only America." He comforted her, but she seemed to be set in her ways. _

_"No, Sora! You packed your underwear, right? I don't want you running around like those hooligan commandos! Do you have your dictionary...?" _

_"Mom!" Sora's face must have lit up the room with its florescant, tomato red as he reached over and placed a hand on his mother's shoulder in as comforting of a manner as he could muster. "The plane is about to leave. I'll call you as soon as I get there. I promise I'll be thinking of you." _

_Despite his calm appearance, Sora could feel his eyes watering, and his throat closing. To save himself from further embaressment, he pulled his mother into a loving hug, before pulling away and kissing her on the cheek hurridly, a small blush still visable on his face as he cleared his throat. _

_"Sora, before you go." His mother broke the awkward, choked silence between them. Pulling out a letter, she placed it into his hand tentaively. "This letter is for your father. I want you to go see him, while you're in the states. I'm sure they'll allow you that much, won't they?"_

_Mutely, Sora nodded and pocketed the letter, before casting another, less restrained look at his mother. He must have looked absolutely pathetic, because she pulled him into another hug, and gave him a big, motherly kiss. _

_"Above all else, have fun, sweety." She advised him fondly, before pushing him lightly towards the terminal door; Sora didn't have to be pushed twice. He walked quickly to the door, and entered as quick as possible, without a look back. He didn't want his mom to see him cry._

Absently, Sora pocketed the picture once again, and cast a look at his surroundings to distract himself. He wasn't going to cry again.

Although Sora had never ridden a plane before, he wasn't exactly sure what people had always been making such a fuss about; riding a plane was just like riding in a car, except first class was equipped with individual televisions on the back of each seat (which Sora was currently unable to use, due to the uncomfortable positioning of the boy in front of him) and excellant steward and stewardess service, which he was also unable to take advantage of because they were all bending over backward for the same boy who had restricted Sora's foot space. He would not let it damper his mood, however: on the contrary, his mood was lightened by the ding of the seatbelt light, and the Co-Captin's chipper voice over the loudspeaker.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, within ten minutes time we will be approaching Los Angeles air terminal. We advise that you return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts at this time: thank you for flying with Tokyo airlines, and we hope you enjoyed your flight!"

At this, Sora couldn't help but grin, even as his ears popped painfully. He was in America: America, where he would join with VAL industries, and become what he'd always wanted to be: just like Riku.

As the plane came to a halt at the terminal, Sora quickly gathered his letters and complimentary "Tokyo Airlines" pamplet (he had memorized it on the way, just in case the plane were to crash into water, land, or they were forced to evacuate mid-flight) and hurried to exit the plane along with the rest of the passangers. His eyes itched in anticipation for the sights of America; his ears strained for the first sounds that America could confront him with.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Came a screeching noise from somewhere, startling Sora back a few steps into a surly-looking buisnessman. The man grunted at him, but said nothing, and Sora darted his eyes for the source of the strange noise. There: a small, five year old girl stood, screaming what seemed like gibberish to his ears at an older man, who Sora assumed was her father, or caretaker.

"You told me you'd get me a _pink_ one, you got me a _red one!_" The small child screamed angerly, the gibberish running into one of Sora's ears, and out the other. What was the problem with this girl? Was she hurt? Should he help her? Without looking like he was staring, he watched the situation with interest: the small girl's hands were curled around what seemed to be a red-colored, portable DVD player. "I don't _want_ the red one, you're so _mean_!"

The older man's hand was on the small girl's shoulder in a second, as though consoling her, however his voice was quieter, seemingly trying to quiet the screeching gibberish queen down as well. The action happened before anyone, including Sora, could even register what was happening until after it was done; the small girl stomped her foot, let out a scream, and threw the machine onto the ground with more force then Sora had even thought possible coming from a child of that size and age. The DVD player shattered helplessly, parts scattering, almost as if they were trying their best to escape the frightening girl.

_That girl...just threw a DVD player to the ground? But why! _Sora wondered, absolutely confused. Focusing his attention away from the strange duo, he looked around the airport hopefully, finally registering the sights, the sounds, and the smells of an American airport. Around him, strange, colorful symbols jumped out at him, like a carnival or an arcade game; endless gibberish chatter echoed around him from children, adults, teenagers, babies. The sight of many colored faces was almost overwhelming for him as he cast his eyes around, trying his best to drink it all up in one sweep of dark blue. A man with a dark brown face smiled a pearly while smile as he spoke; his companion, pale white skin, with red hair.

_Maybe I should move_...Sora finally decided, seeing as he had been standing in the same place for a good five minutes. A few steady steps...yes; walking in America was the same as Japan. A small bit of excitement formed in Sora's stomach as he walked quickly to the nearest shop: a magazine store, which also sold candy and other snack foods. His eyes lit up at the snacks, but first headed towards the magazines, in hopes of catching a glimse of Riku on a cover.

Indeed, Riku was on many covers: a few accompanied by his celebrety girlfriend, Kairi. Sora had read all about their relationship in one of his magazines back at home: the two had started dating a month ago, Kairi being the lead singer of a four-person girl group titled "KYRP". It was obvious that the K stood for Kairi, but the YRP...Sora had never looked very far into it.

Next to the magazines was the American-themed t-shirts and merchandise. They seemed to contain anything a person could collect: sweatshirts, key chains, post cards, snow globes...

_Maybe I should get Mom a snow globe?_ He thought to himself absently, picking up a snow globe and shaking it. The scene was a city, with the caption "Los Angeles" like a colorful neon sign above it. When shaken, the city was rained on by dozens of colorful confetti, making it seem as though the party was now in full swing.

Still holding the snow globe (his idea to buy it for his mother still in mind) Sora began to browse the other merchandise with less interest, but still a definite enthusiasm. By that time, however, the shop had become slightly crowded; without warning, a man's shoulder came crashing into the small of Sora's back, causing the snow globe to fall from his hands, and onto the hard, solid floor.

The smash was deafening.

"Hey!" Sora called increduously. "The least you could do was say that you're _sorry_!"

The man in question did not even turn around at Sora's voice, however he did recieve a few strange looks from the people around him.

"You gunna pay for that, kid?" A man was speaking loud gibberish behind him, but Sora ignored it professionally: by now, he had at least become accustomed to the gibberish around him, and aware that none of the sounds were directed at him. "Hey, _kid_!"

A rough hand was on Sora's shoulder in an instant, causing him to jump in surprise, and hindering him from walking any further. Cautiously, he turned around to face the owner of tha hand.

"You break it you bought it, kid!" The man babbled to him worthlessly, and Sora couldn't help but look confused.

"What?" He asked hopefully, and the man glared at him, causing Sora's will to fade, slightly. English...English...what words did he know that were English?

"Uh...Coca Cola?" He tried hopefully, but that statement seemed only to further infuriate the man. Taking a glance at the shirt and nametag, Sora assumed that he was the keeper of this shop. "Los Angeles?"

The words felt strange coming off his tongue, but somehow, after saying them, he felt as if he fit in better, even slightly. The shopkeeper, however, was not amused, nor did he congratulate him.

"You think this is funny, do ya!" He bellowed, and Sora's eyes widened slightly. Being yelled at in gibberish was _definitely_ uncomfortable. Suddenly, another hand on his shoulder startled him once again.

"I'll pay for it." Another gibberish-speaking man, although with a slightly smoother voice, seemed to be consoling the shopkeeper. After a moment, strange looking papers were exchanged between the two, and the hand on his shoulder led Sora's slightly shock-paralyzed body to a nearby chair.

"I don't speak any _English_!" Sora stated to the man in frustration. The man, who turned out to be a suave-looking American in a black, official-looking buisness suit, shook his head at Sora and murmered in his gibberish; Sora recognised the shoulder of his suit as the one that had knocked into him, and caused the entire commotion with the English-speaking shopkeeper. Apparantly, he did not speak any more Japanese than Sora spoke English. He motioned for Sora to stand, however, and follow him. Sora was a bit hesitant, but...what other choice did he have? He spoke no English, and obviously nobody here spoke Japanese: he had to follow the man.

The two walked a bit in silence, Sora following a few respectable feet behind the other man as they passed many resteraunts, shops, and people. Once or twice Sora thought he heard talking that he could understand, but could not stop to check: the man continued walking at a fast pace, and Sora had to keep up. Finally, the man stopped, and Sora trotted up to his side, looking up at him expectantly. The man smiled encouragingly, and pointed towards the desk helpfully. Sora couldn't help but grin up at the man as he bowed slightly, uttering a quick "Thank you!" before hurrying towards the desk. When he looked back, the man was gone.

"Excuse me..." He started to say at the desk, before a voice stopped him.

"Sora Fukisku?" A stern, official-sounding voice summoned, and Sora looked over expectantly. The voice seemed to come from a tall, angry looking gentleman to his left: the man's arms, clad in a deep red trenchcoat, were crossed impatiently over his chest, and Sora was positive that if the man's eyes had not been covered by a small pair of sunglasses, they would have been staring at him with annoyance.

"Yes! Yes, that's me!" Sora practically exploded, bounding over the man in a fit of relief and excitement. "Finally, someone who speaks my language!"

When he saw the look on the large man's face, however, he immediately toned down his smile, and looked uncertainly away from the man's reflective sunglasses to the boy standing behind him: shimmering blonde hair barely brushed the edges of the other boy's forget-me-not blue eyes, accented his tan skin, and seemed perfect for the muscular, masculine build that he hid underneath his modest t-shirt.

Suddenly, Sora felt very plain, scrawney, and unimportant.

"We've been paging you for the past twenty-five minutes." The stern voice interrupted his thoughts, and Sora's eyes were suddenly caught in ones of honey brown in a challenging stare. "We don't have time to waste. We're expected to be seated in the meeting room of VAL Industries in ten minutes, which we will undoubtedly have to be late for, thanks to your lollygagging."

_Lolly-gagging?_ Sora wondered briefly to himself, but decided to drop it, for fear of confusing himself even more then the swarmed, English airport already had. The other boy's blue eyes caught his own, and rolled upward: Sora couldn't help thinking that it looked as if a pool of water had suddenly capsized, and rolled to the top of his eyes, instead of the bottom.

"Don't mind Auron." The blonde boy's voice, as Sora had expected, held an aire of confidence, and flowed gracefully from his tongue: as if he had practiced those words many times before, although it was obvious that he hadn't. "He's just grouchy. He's actually a pretty nice guy once you pull the stick out of his ass."

Amist Sora's quiet chuckles, the large man, now labelled by Sora as supposedly "Auron", cast a fleeting glance back at the two adolescents, before gesturing with a flick of his hand for them to follow him out of the automatic, gliding doors.

"I do speak Japanese, you know." Was his simple response, although a small, barely noticable smirk graced his features directed towards the blonde. The smirk was returned, although slightly more teasing.

"I know." Was all the boy spared to their elder, before turning back towards Sora with a charming smile that caused butterflies to flutter in his stomach.

_No wonder they picked this kid._ Sora couldn't help thinking to himself as he examined the confident, attractive exterior of his companion. The boy seemed to radiate charisma, and his strait white, charming smile had sent even Sora into a slight swoon. Somehow, Sora figured that it wouldn't even matter if this boy couldn't sing: he could charm the audiance so much that they wouldn't care whether he was singing or not.

"My name's Tidus." The blonde continued obliviously as the three stopped in front of a large, shiny black limo. Sora looked around the lot expectantly, before casting Tidus a slightly confused look.

"What are we waiting for?" He asked quietly, so that Auron (who seemed the type to scold him for such a question) couldn't hear him. Tidus simply smiled his usual smile, and pointed to the door of the limo, which had yet to be opened. At this, Sora nodded in understanding: perhaps they were waiting for _him_ to open the door, because he was the last person to arrive. Determinedly, he began to take a step foward, and reached for the door handle...

_Swat!_

...only to be barred in his place by an almost lightning quick arm across his chest. Guessing from the strangely manicured nails, he didn't even have to look at the face to know that it was Tidus, and he, with the reflexes of a professional blitzer, had stopped Sora from taking even one step closer to the limo.

"Fact number one, Sora." Tidus started, and Sora wondered how the other boy had learned his name so quickly, or at least, remembered it. "It's obvious that you're not used to such treatment, so I'll fill you in: never open your own limo door."

Feeling slightly better about his obliviousness, Sora simply nodded, and watched as a uniform-clad driver's opened the limo door for them, and the three climbed in: Sora, as professionally as he could.

"So, Sora, how was your airplane ride?" Tidus asked conversationally as he, seemingly knowing limos like the back of his hand, was already sipping a cola from the cooler near the door. Sora smiled at his new friend's obvious effort, and even wider when Tidus gestured to the cooler suggestively, as though silently asking, _"Would you like anything?"_

"Grape, if you wouldn't mind..." A grape soda was tossed his way, and he absent-mindedly tapped the top of the can as he continued, "The airplane ride was easy, and the workers were very helpful."

A quiet, polite laugh escaped Tidus' lips, and Sora was slightly taken aback: had he said something amusing, and not known it?

"You thought those workers were helpful?" The blonde repeated in a slightly sarcastic tone, and provoked a questioning look from Sora. "You try not getting a strawberry with your milkshake...which I specifically asked for, you know?"

The image of a stewardess, rushing frantically to the side of the individual in front of him, four large, delicious-looking strawberries on a plate with a mint leaf...aha. It was all falling into place now. Sora, however, opted to say nothing more about the trip, and instead sat quietly and sipped his cola with as much grace as he could.

---

"Now, we're only minutes tardy for the meeting, so we can still fit into the casually late category. Once we enter that room, you speak only English, understood?" Auron's commanding voice brought nervousness into Sora's stomach as his eyes widened considerably in panic.

"Tidus..." He tried, and turned, his own frantic eyes meeting with the cool, calm blue of his companion. The other boy seemed to sense his distress.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice hushed as they walked quickly through the carpeted hallways of VAL industries. Their footsteps made little to no sound, and Sora was once again appreciative of Tidus' cool understanding.

"Tidus, I...don't speak any English." He whispered hurridly to his companion, and, although there was a slight widening of the ocean-blue eyes, Tidus made no other indications that he was surprised or upset by the news.

"Didn't you take it in school?" He tried his best to console Sora's obviously troubled state, but when Sora shook his head, he looked slightly troubled as well.

"I failed." Sora stated simply, and Tidus bit one of his flawless pink lips and raised one of his blonde eyebrows in thought.

"So did I." Was his only reassuring statement, however as they reached the door to their conference room he grabbed Sora's shoulder and pulled him closer, causing Sora's heart to beat faster at their close proximity. "Follow my lead when we get in there, okay? I'll help you."

Gratitude swelled within Sora as he felt like hugging the blonde boy but, upon realizing the inapproriate nature that this action would be upon entering a conference room, he chose to simply stare at the boy in admiration.

"Thank you." Was all that he had time to mutter before Auron knocked quietly on the door, before turning the knob and entering the room, gesturing for Tidus and Sora to follow.

"Pardon our tardiness, Mr. Valentine." He apoligised in a respectable voice that sounded new, and strange coming from the gruff man in front of him. "We hit a bit of traffic on our way here that left us unfortunately delayed."

"Excellant. I'll be sure to fire the driver." Came a new voice from the head of the table, and Sora felt his eyes instinctively move towards the voice.

The man at the head of the table, radiating power and a dignified manner, shuffled his papers and cast his slightly frightening red eyes around the room with scruitiny. Sora remained silent as the man's voice drifted over the head of the room's occupants, like music notes drifting and lingering in the air, making its listeners regret a missed word.

Gently, he felt a pinch at his back signalling that Tidus wanted him to follow his lead to the chairs specified. As the two passed the head of the rectangular table, Sora's eyes drank in the man's appearance: attached to the blood-red eyes was an eerily pale face, and long, jet black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. When Sora was allowd a closer look, he saw that it was tied with a maroon, velvet ribbon to match his coat jacket of a similar color -- which he had yet to remove despite the heat. Underneath the jacket was a crisp black, open collared shirt, with no tie.

_Creepy guyequals important._ Sora concluded automatically as he settled himself into one of the soft, cushioned seats situated around the table. Vaguely, he felt Tidus shift beside him, and the boy's clear blue eyes focus on the speaker with an intense, motivated stare.

Sora, however, being unable to understand any of the words spilling gracefully from the pale man's mouth, chose to focus his attention elsewhere.

The man standing beside the head of the table was a stout brunett: unlike the dignified head of the table, this man's light brown eyes swept over Sora with a sort of nervousness, and panic when he had walked into the room: their eyes had locked for a single moment, before nervous, twitching eyes had moved away from him and onto their next victim. Unlike his excessively garmented superior, however (at least, Sora assumed it was his superior, due to the difference in attitude and stance) this man wore a simple brown suit, and white shirt with a matching brown tie. Talk about boring.

"Pay as best attention as you can..." Came the smooth, confident voice of Tidus, in a whisper in his ear. Sora bit his lip, but nodded to his helpful companion, but Tidus seemed still concerned as he heard a pen click, and the paper that he had not noticed before this moment being written on with Tidus' strait, even writing. In Japanese, Sora noticed.

So, Tidus was translating the gibberish for him; if Sora wasn't afraid of what the others in the room would think of him, he would kiss his blonde savior...and perhaps give him some pocky.

_Pocky..._ Thought Sora nostalgically as his mind wandered happily to the pocky in the cuboard of his house: the pocky that he'd forgotten to grab on his way out the door. _Darn...should have grabbed that pocky..._

"Are there..any questions?" The musical voice continued, oblivous to any mind-wanderings of his non-English-speaking attendants. Beside Sora, Tidus nodded, and his voice brought the daydreaming boy out of his pocky-enduced stupor.

_Wait a sec..._

"Mr.Valentine...with all due respect, I'm curious as to why you went through the trouble of recruiting members of your band from Japan, as well as the United States." Asked Tidus' familar voice, but Sora's eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him.

Tidus was speaking in _English_.

_Good_ English.

Hadn't the other boy agreed to his failure in the class? Had Tidus learned English just from listening to the strange man at the head of the table speak? Mentally, Sora kicked himself for not paying more attention: after all, he could have learned as much English as Tidus had, if only he'd been listening.

"Ah...excellant question, Mr. Sujakni." Mr. Valentine, or who Sora assumed was Mr. Valentine, due to Tidus' adressing tone towards the man, answered back. "I've recruited two members of this group from Japan, simply for the sake of diversity. I thought if I brought two talented, English-speaking Japanese boys here," The man beside Mr. Valentine visably twitched, but was ignored as the speaker continued, "then we would have the perfect mix of pure-bred American boys, and the Japanese boys that girls seem to be fawning over these days."

Seemingly satisfied, Tidus once again nodded beside Sora, but spoke no more English as he hastily copied what the man had spoken moments before. Another voice, this time new, came from across the table from Sora, and surprised him slightly.

"What exactly would be the variety of the tour schedule, considering the international members?" The voice asked, its deep and confident sound commanding that Sora listen, despite his ignorance in the language. The boy speaking was close in comparison to Tidus (however different in nationalities that they were) with straw-colored blonde hair and bright, almost florescant, blue eyes. His eyes were currently focused on Mr. Valentine in what Sora would describe as a challenging stare to match his equally challenging, and well shown through his black t-shirt, muscle.

Mr. Valentine made some short response to the blonde's question, before adressing the group as a whole in an almost hurried manner as he gathered his papers together neatly.

"Now, I'm unfortunately due for another meeting, so I will leave you in the care of my assistant, Sakano, " with the hand not holding his stack of papers, Mr. Valentine gestured towards the brown-suited man before he stood from his chair. Red, velvet pants adourned hi bottom half, and somehow Sora wasn't surprised. "But first, let's have some introductions. You..." With one black, leather glove upon his hand, he pointed at Sora. "Why don't you start us off?"

Sora felt a pinch at his side (courtesy of Tidus) and looked up hurridly to find his eyes meeting with those of his four teeange companions, the firey red of Mr. Valentine, and the twitching, shocking brown of Mr. Sakano.

_Oh no oh no oh no..._ Sora mentally panicked, his stomach doing jumping jacks as he moved his own blue eyes to lock with Tidus' desperately.

"Tidus..." He whispered hesitantly, hoping that the other boy would either tell him by everyone at the table was staring at him, or at least help him out of his uncomfortable and potentially embaressing situation. Did they know that he didn't speak English? Was he going to get kicked out? Granted, the looks that he was recieving were not looks of scorn, or anger: more looks of curiosity, and worry.

"I said, please tell me your name." Mr. Valentine repeated calmly to Sora: with the voice finally being directed towards him, Sora couldn't help but squirm as his breath caught in his throat. Now he couldn't speak at all...he was having a panic attack...

"Mr. Valentine, if I may." Came Tidus' voice beside him, and allowing the breath to once again flow through Sora's throat and out of his mouth, were he let out as quiet of a cough as he could. Mr. Valentine's scrutinizing eyes moved towards Tidus in a slight annoyance, which made Sora's stomach cease in its jumping jacks...but start in on the tap dance.

"I've learned from my time with my fellow Japanese companion, which was quite a bit of time considering our long flight together -- filled with friendly conversations, jokes, laughter, and shared dreams, that this boy beside me has one of the largest drives to succeed that I have ever witnessed in my short, however experienced, seventeen year old life. He, much like the rest of us in this room, was recruited for his excellant singing abilities, which he had the _decency_ to grace me with on our way to VAL industries. I believe that the only fault holding my dear friend back from becoming one of the strongest parts of our new group would be his lack of English." Mr. Sakano made a loud choking noise at those words, and it seemed that Mr. Valentine's mouth was opened to speak, but Tidus bravely held his hand up to silence them both as he continued. "A problem that can be easily remedied, if you'll allow me to say so, superiors."

Mr. Valentine's mouth was still open to speak, however this time he seemed impressed with Tidus' impressive speaking abilities, and charisma. His eyes once again focused upon Sora, who blushed and looked towards his lap in roder to avoid the searching red orbs.

"Mr. Sujakni...your companion sang with perfect English on his demo tape." Mr. Valentine inquired, his eyebrow raised as he leaned forward on the table, resting his weight on both arms and staring fixedly at the brunett, as though waiting for his eyes to move up once again and lock with his: as though to read into his very soul. "How is it possible that he can speak no English, when we heard little no to accent in his singing?"

"Sora." This time, it wasn't Tidus' soothing voice that spoke, but Auron's as he came up behind Sora and placed a hand on his shoulder, signalling for him to look up. He did so, nervously. "You sang in English on your demo tape...how could you sing English so well?"

Although the question wasn't meant to be forceful, Auron's squeezing hand on his shoulder was definitely forceful enough for both his words and his actions combined.

"I am Riku's biggest fan." He stated simply, and reluctantly cast a glance at Mr. Valentine, as though checking to see whether or not he could understand him. "I know all of his words by heart, even on interviews, so I memorized his accent...even his speaking accent."

Auron stared at him for a moment (and Sora was briefly afraid that the large, frightening man was going to strangle him) before he adressed Mr. Valentine and Sakano to relay Sora's words. Mr. Valentine looked thoughtful, while Tidus seemed to look intrigued.

"Ask him to quote something that Riku has said...in English." Mr. Valentine offered, and Auron nodded as he adressed Sora once again.

"You said you've memorized everything Riku has ever said...say it now. Anything." One of Auron's eyebrows lifted in a challenging manner, and Sora almost smiled, if it wasn't for the severity of the situation. Clearing his throat (and trying to avoid all of the eyes upon him) he lifted his eyes to Mr. Valentines once again, this time confident by the thought of his idol: Riku always made him confident.

"Someone always told me..." Sora started cautiously, and, upon seeing a satisfied nod from Tidus at his progress, continued confidently. "...to always follow your dreams. I believe it was Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell who sang the unforgettable lyrics, 'ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no vally low enough, ain't no river wide enough': this, to me, is how one should be when following their dreams; don't let anything stand in your way." Internally, Sora sang the short jingle that played when the host of the show thanked their guest for coming out this evening, and a small smile lit up his face as Riku's gorgeous face thanked the host for having him...and now to our sponsers...

"That was _amazing_." Mr. Valentine's voice interrupted Sora's blissful images of Riku's silver hair, gently brushing his shoulders as he turned his head towards one side of the audiance and waved thankfully. "Simply amazing. That doesn't outweigh his lack of Enlgish _knowlege_, however...we can't have him walking around quoting _Riku_ wherever he goes."

Tidus chuckled professionally beside Sora, and lowered his arm around his Japanese companion's shoulders in a friendly manner.

"Mr. Valentine, my proposition is simple: allow Sora to stay in the group, and I'll have him speaking English before our first concert." The blonde's arm tightened around Sora's shoulders in anticipation of the response: one of the first signs of anxiousness that he'd seen from his calm, collected friend. Mr. Valentine gave the two a searching stare, before he gave a small, almost unnoticable nod.

"I'll be checking up on you." Were his only words before he turned away from the duo, causing Tidus' arm to loosen in relief as Mr.Valentine's eyes focused on the rest of the group once again, this time in an impatient manner.

"No time to learn all of your names, I'm afraid: I'll leave that up to my assistant, Mr. Sakano. I'll rejoin you for your first sound session at nine o'clock tomorrow morning." The obivously hurried buissnessman was already halfway to the door as he spoke, and waited anxiously for the door to be opened for him. Mr. Sakano jumped to the task and performed it dilligently, and in a heartbeat the pale man was gone.

"Alright, so..." Mr. Sakano started, speaking for the first time since Sora and his companions had entered the room. His voice, as Sora had imagined, was jumpy and inconsistant, frequently loweing in volume, then sparking alive at the slightest word. "Let's have some names, shall we?"

The blonde that had previously asked a question stood from his chair, and gestured towards himself pointedly.

"My name is Cloud" He started simply, before pulling his chair back underneath himself and sitting once again. The young man beside him followed the blonde's example.

"I'm Irvine." Came a slow, crawling drawl. The sound of the voice was interesting to Sora's ears: a different twang then what he had become accustomed to hearing in the incessant babbling around him. "Irvine Kinneas."

The young man's voice was startlingly unlike Tidus, or even Cloud's: while there was still an aire of arrogant confidence, it wasn't commanding or strong -- it instead held a silky sort of rolling sound, like a tire driving over smooth, undented pavement in the fall. He, much like Mr. Valentine, wore a heavy jacket despite the rising California heat; the jacket, furthermore, was lined with a sort of furry material that matched the tan of his jacket, and constrasted well with the chesnut brown of his long, pulled back hair...which, Sora noticed, had a few strrands coming loose to hang in front of his face in a stubborn, yet attractive style. On the table in fromt of the brunett, a dark-brown cowboy hat rested respectfully, and seemed that only when atop the young man's head could the outfit be considered complete. This particular member of the group chose not to sit once again, however, and chose instead to amble pointlessly to gaze out the large, side window of their conference room. Guessing from the smile on his face and the whimsical look in the gazing light-brown eyes, Sora was almost positive that, much like himself, Irvine was also unfamiliar with the city of Los Angeles.

"Great!" Sora was interrupted from his analization of the cowboy at the window by Tidus' all-too-familiar voice, often the target to draw him back into the world of the living from his dream-world. "My name is Tidus, and this is Sora." Sora felt Tidus' hand clap onto his shoulder, and he sent his friend a small, grateful smile.

_Should I be concerned that he is constantly touching me?_ Sora wondered to himself idly, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself as his eyes settled on the final member of the group, the only one that had not spoken (nor did it seem that he planned on doing so in the near future without being forced). The silent teen indeed had the looks of a quiet loner: his hair was a snowy white, along with his eyebrows, and his eyes were the largest that Sora had ever seen on a real human being -- large, sad, and a dark, harmonizing brown in color to match his light pink, frowning lips. Part of Sora wished that he _could_ speak English: at least to make conversation with his fellow group-member, and cheer him up.

"And you?" Mr. Sakano seemed to have noticed the final young-man's silence remotely close to when Sora had, and was taking charge. The large brown eyes blinked at Mr. Sakano for a moment, before the pink lips half-smiled apolegetically.

"My apologies." Came his soft, slightly quavering voice and it seemed that everything in the room, whether it had before been moving or not, stopped in its tracks or purpose in order to listen to the words exiting the young man's mouth. "My name is Baralai. It's wonderful to meet you all."

The four English-speaking occupants of the room nodded in recognition of his compliment, while Sora simply looked confused, and tapped Tidus' hand (which had yet to leave his shoulder) to get his attention.

"Did they say I could stay?" He asked finally, impatience getting the better of him as he looked up at his friend anxiously from his cushioned seat. Mr. Sakano made no comments about the change in language: either he spoke Japanese, or had no qualms with hearing it spoken around him. Tidus' bright blue eyes rolled for the second time that day, and Sora halfway expected water to spill out of the blonde's eyelids due to his water-blue eyes capsizing twice in one day. Despite his eye-roll, however, his blonde friend nodded, and flashed his dazzling white teeth in his characteristic charming smile.

"On one condition." Tidus stated seriously, the hand on Sora's shoulder hindering him from celebration as the blue eyes met with his: a stare filled with confidence, while, at the same time, masked insecurity. "I've got to teach you English in three weeks."

For a few beats, all Sora could do was stare at the blonde in disbelief: his mouth was open slightly, as thought he were about to speak, but couldn't quite get the words out that he wanted to say. Finally, when Tidus was about to repeat the statement he was interrupted by the only two words that Sora could get out of his mouth, and the two words that had enveloped his brain at the news.

"Oh, shit!"

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Papers cluttered the bed in a darkened room: so darkened, in fact, that even the light of a candle only illuminated the space inches around it, and left shadows lurking eerily in ever corner and crevice that the light could reach. The bed, several times too large for only one person to sleep, was indeed the resting place of but one teenager, however his sleep was troubled by the news that his manager had recently faxed to the hotel room where he was currently residing.

_VAL Industries search is complete. They have their band. Two from Japan, one from Kentucky, one from San Fransisco, and another from Boston. That makes five. You do the math. _

The news from his manager should not have disturbed the young teenager as much as it had: his bright, attractive green eyes scanned the compositions that his writers had given him to memorize for the next day's recording session. This new band shouldn't pose much of a threat against him...

_Then why..._ Thought the shadowed figure as he ran his fingers through his soft, smooth silver hair in slight frustration and tiredness. _Why is this bothering me so much?_

With a shake of his head, Riku Daijori -- the last name that hardly anyone knew, but the first name that seemed to be on every magazine and every pair of lips that owned a radio or television -- gathered the papers together into a neat pile, and placed them on the table beside his soft hotel bed with finalization. With one small breath the candle that had once illuminated the space around it went dead, and silent, and Riku climbed underneath the covers for another restless night. His eyes drifted closed, but before they were fully shut the moonlight shone on a single line from the compositions beside his bed pointedly:

_...when I reach for you, your love lifts me up_...

The line seemed photographed into his memory as sleep overcame him at last.

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Music used in this chapter is "Cadillac Dress" by Soul Decision.

The song lyric that Riku sings is "Where You Are" by Rascal Flatts.


End file.
